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shosenThe taunka swear their blood and strength and life to the Horde, and he wonders if their eyes are as blinded as his were when he first swore the same.
It seems a lifetime ago, was, he supposes, when he tries to put a name to whatever his existence is now. Which isn’t often.
They’re motivated by grief and revenge, and he understands both. Only had the first to take him into yet another war that wasn’t his, but still wanted the second deep within the heart that had given up.
He remembers standing on the zeppelin tower the first time, looking down at the diseased land he had once cursed in that same heart. Remembers seeing the damage done by those who could make such dark dreams a reality. Thinks revenge isn’t always as nice as you’d expect.
Not when the elf’s eyes are sad the few times she talks about how the city used to be. Not when he’s sitting beside her and listening and seeing that hurt. Boggles at it all, sometimes, since everything he was ever taught says he should enjoy it, should strike her down. Her, and all of them, even the love-sick pup, and that would be a shame. To lose one of the few friends he’s got a claim to.
He doesn’t understand how things have changed. Figures he doesn’t have to, just has to accept that they have. So he carries an axe made by the boy about four times his age, and tries not to think how things would have been different if they’d met when he fought for the Old Horde, not the New.
He tries to make sense of the stories he hears, that flow around him, told between people who should be enemies even now, but worry and ask after each other all the same. Sometimes, he wants things to be simple again, with friend and foe clear in face and form, but admits to himself that it never really was.
The taunka swear to fight for the Horde, and fall if need be. Like the rest, it seems simple on its face, but he made the same pledge and kept it, didn’t he? He meant it as much as they do, but he didn’t see that even falling isn’t always the end.
It wasn’t the Horde that called him back, of course, though they took him back, but it all amounts to the same thing. He still thinks, now and again, of letting go, but he travels with the elf and she’ll keep him up or pick him up, which makes it all pointless. Unless, of course, she falls, and blood and heritage be damned, he doesn’t want to see that.
It’s an odd kind of trap, and he can’t tell if he minds being in it or not. Watches the taunka promise away everything they are, in part thanks to him, and hopes they won’t mind when they see he’s tangled them up in it with him.
It seems a lifetime ago, was, he supposes, when he tries to put a name to whatever his existence is now. Which isn’t often.
They’re motivated by grief and revenge, and he understands both. Only had the first to take him into yet another war that wasn’t his, but still wanted the second deep within the heart that had given up.
He remembers standing on the zeppelin tower the first time, looking down at the diseased land he had once cursed in that same heart. Remembers seeing the damage done by those who could make such dark dreams a reality. Thinks revenge isn’t always as nice as you’d expect.
Not when the elf’s eyes are sad the few times she talks about how the city used to be. Not when he’s sitting beside her and listening and seeing that hurt. Boggles at it all, sometimes, since everything he was ever taught says he should enjoy it, should strike her down. Her, and all of them, even the love-sick pup, and that would be a shame. To lose one of the few friends he’s got a claim to.
He doesn’t understand how things have changed. Figures he doesn’t have to, just has to accept that they have. So he carries an axe made by the boy about four times his age, and tries not to think how things would have been different if they’d met when he fought for the Old Horde, not the New.
He tries to make sense of the stories he hears, that flow around him, told between people who should be enemies even now, but worry and ask after each other all the same. Sometimes, he wants things to be simple again, with friend and foe clear in face and form, but admits to himself that it never really was.
The taunka swear to fight for the Horde, and fall if need be. Like the rest, it seems simple on its face, but he made the same pledge and kept it, didn’t he? He meant it as much as they do, but he didn’t see that even falling isn’t always the end.
It wasn’t the Horde that called him back, of course, though they took him back, but it all amounts to the same thing. He still thinks, now and again, of letting go, but he travels with the elf and she’ll keep him up or pick him up, which makes it all pointless. Unless, of course, she falls, and blood and heritage be damned, he doesn’t want to see that.
It’s an odd kind of trap, and he can’t tell if he minds being in it or not. Watches the taunka promise away everything they are, in part thanks to him, and hopes they won’t mind when they see he’s tangled them up in it with him.