DOCUMENTATION OF EVENTS TAKING PLACE ON THE ████ OF FEBRUARY ███ AC
EVENTS TAKE PLACE OUTSIDE THE WALLS OF ██████, DUE ████ OF THE █████ DISTRICT
A coronation of fire, for the heir of flames.
That's what they thought the feeling would be. Triumph. Success, power, and most of all, conquest. They didn't want to compare it to the searing flame that started in their back and spread down to their arms, the smell of burning skin and blood blasting into the air. Really, they had made a pyre for her by themself, as an offering- yet the turn wasn't gradual, it was a tempest of hellfire that spread through their veins without restraint.
They really, really thought that ███████ couldn't be as cruel as this.
When they started incorporating the creation of pyres outside the border of ███████ as a part of their routine, they really didn't think it would just happen.. Like that. They thought they'd have a premonition, or a sign, or some sort of warning for all the trouble they'd put into hunting and burning carcasses for days on end in the worship and pursuit of power. Just like their ██████ had taught them, the Gods aren't as kind as you make them out to be, no matter how much good they've done. They will never meet to expectations.
That's all they could think about when they fell to their feet and curled up in the ashes of their own offering, immune to the fire that surrounded them. Nothing else mattered but knowing that this is what their █████ went through, and how powerful he was, and how they'd be the same for enduring it. No fear to his recklessness, no strain to his strength, and no restraint to his power. All in the name of what they wanted to keep dear. In his words, to "protect the veil".
They couldn't turn back now. Even though they had scorned, even though their █████ had abandoned it all, even though the path he walked was coated and stained with red. To embrace their legacy was to become who came before, nothing more and nothing less. A year ago, that thought would have broken him. To think that they'd become like him, and that they'd just repeat all of his mistakes? Maybe that was the part they missed. That they were supposed to commit, but neglect the mistakes. To forsake attachment in the sake of progress.
They thought about █████. How could someone like that want to fix everything they had? It didn't seem right, to be so close and so endearing, yet to stimulate their ambition with little more than a single word. To be quite fair, they didn't really know what romance was, nor how to conduct it. They'd merely been sitting in the breeze, so far, though that didn't stop the thought from crossing their mind. They'd endure it, even if only for her. They'd keep the thought dear, as if it would shield from a hail of arrows.
They awoke in a pile of ash, either unconscious from the pain or from exhaustion of their own account. The stars had hit, and that pale orange blemish coated the horizon. It didn't seem right. They weren't a spitting image of his ideal, but they were close enough. This would be their only rest for a while, stuck in a scar of ashen waste, just as he thought he would be so many years ago. It would had to be enough, seeing as their work was yet unfinished. If it wasn't enough, then they'd have to get more. If it was enough, then they were sure they'd smile soon.
DOCUMENTATION OF EVENTS TAKING PLACE ON THE ████ OF FEBRUARY ███ AC
EVENTS TAKE PLACE OUTSIDE THE WALLS OF ██████, DUE ████ OF THE █████ DISTRICT
A coronation of fire, for the heir of flames.
That's what they thought the feeling would be. Triumph. Success, power, and most of all, conquest. They didn't want to compare it to the searing flame that started in their back and spread down to their arms, the smell of burning skin and blood blasting into the air. Really, they had made a pyre for her by themself, as an offering- yet the turn wasn't gradual, it was a tempest of hellfire that spread through their veins without restraint.
They really, really thought that ███████ couldn't be as cruel as this.
When they started incorporating the creation of pyres outside the border of ███████ as a part of their routine, they really didn't think it would just happen.. Like that. They thought they'd have a premonition, or a sign, or some sort of warning for all the trouble they'd put into hunting and burning carcasses for days on end in the worship and pursuit of power. Just like their ██████ had taught them, the Gods aren't as kind as you make them out to be, no matter how much good they've done. They will never meet to expectations.
That's all they could think about when they fell to their feet and curled up in the ashes of their own offering, immune to the fire that surrounded them. Nothing else mattered but knowing that this is what their █████ went through, and how powerful he was, and how they'd be the same for enduring it. No fear to his recklessness, no strain to his strength, and no restraint to his power. All in the name of what they wanted to keep dear. In his words, to "protect the veil".
They couldn't turn back now. Even though they had scorned, even though their █████ had abandoned it all, even though the path he walked was coated and stained with red. To embrace their legacy was to become who came before, nothing more and nothing less. A year ago, that thought would have broken him. To think that they'd become like him, and that they'd just repeat all of his mistakes? Maybe that was the part they missed. That they were supposed to commit, but neglect the mistakes. To forsake attachment in the sake of progress.
They thought about █████. How could someone like that want to fix everything they had? It didn't seem right, to be so close and so endearing, yet to stimulate their ambition with little more than a single word. To be quite fair, they didn't really know what romance was, nor how to conduct it. They'd merely been sitting in the breeze, so far, though that didn't stop the thought from crossing their mind. They'd endure it, even if only for her. They'd keep the thought dear, as if it would shield from a hail of arrows.
They awoke in a pile of ash, either unconscious from the pain or from exhaustion of their own account. The stars had hit, and that pale orange blemish coated the horizon. It didn't seem right. They weren't a spitting image of his ideal, but they were close enough. This would be their only rest for a while, stuck in a scar of ashen waste, just as he thought he would be so many years ago. It would had to be enough, seeing as their work was yet unfinished. If it wasn't enough, then they'd have to get more. If it was enough, then they were sure they'd smile soon.
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