Andarin: The Mountains: be ready to step out of the closet, luv. --

horse stock by colourize @ deviantArt ; photomanipulation by Lore

“ Death is the only god that comes when you call. ”
- Roger Zelazny

I wouldn’t know, the winds reason slowly, almost thoughtful. Thoughtful is a strange notion for winds; they are change, wildness, mayhem – and sometimes pensive little gales, eddies in the endless flow of the air around them, into their lungs. I hardly know you.

Fenrisulfr is an awful mother who had her daughters because it was a convenient. Because it was a part of her own mental schedule – to procreate, to raise heirs, to become what she wants thereafter; so that if she dies, by murder or old age or accident, the blood in her veins will not die with her but be kept alive by those born of her own womb.

She’d chosen the best partner available for it and she’d done it. She’d hardly been out of adolescence, then.

But I am glad you do, the winds continue, slow, almost tentative. They tease the hairs in his mane, curl around the feathers of his phoenix. Too silent, too hushed, as if a white pall had fallen over them. There are dark days coming, Nicodemus, and she will need your help. I trust Alkonost to hold herself against virtually anything, but Joh…

Jörmungandr, the small one, the silent one, the second one – timid, shy, naïve Jörmungandr who bore the burns etched into her skin and smiled through it all.

I will be very honest with you, Nicodemus. I can free you from Saphira’s hold, under two conditions. That you return the Innocence to me once you feel it break – it doesn’t take much, from my experience, other than blending into its mind for a second or two – and that you be constant and true to my daughter. She has no father and she has no mother. She has no one other than her sister to keep her, and it isn’t fair to either.

I tasted something wicked in my sister’s skin.

I have hurt Voraer for hurting one of my wolves; to hurt one of my family…

That doesn’t happen.

That doesn’t happen at all.

There are dark days coming.

Are we clear?

FENRISULFR
an axe age, a sword age, shields will be cloven;
a wind age, a wolf age, ere the world sinks.