Andarin: The Mountains: Starweaver;

This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face.
The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown.:
The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save Us!'...:

...and I'll look down, and whisper, 'No'"
He felt the pull of the Element beneath him, and his flames twisting around him like the smooth caress of skin. Andraste hummed softly from above, her wing beats softly in the silence. Keir’s rise and fall as he breathed sleepily from his back. What would he do without them? Without Andraste? He knew that all things could not last. His eyes find the stars, wondering what worlds other than this could possibly exist and whether or not he would ever get to see them. Yes, he had been to other places, but not ones of a completely different existence and universe. Ever since his birth he and Illuiette had been tied to the Element in some way. He sighs deeply, eyes downcast to her mane, the copper redness of it.

Nicodemus didn’t seem to have much luck with love. The thought crosses him with a rather bitter note of faces. Illuiette, Hawthorne, Illiana. All taken with such gusto as quickly as he had learned to love them. Each loved for a different reason, each taken away differently, all loved equally. Nicodemus thinks of Illuiette and her care, and how much Skylar had gotten from her. Illuiette his own sister. Illiana, Lily, for her passion. Hawthorne, sweet Hawthorne, for her beauty both inside and out. And with each love lost, with each tear of his heart he grew harder. His heart blackened like it had burned. The very flames that were his own, destroying him.

It seems that he was destined to roam the earth alone. Perhaps it was how things were supposed to be. Perhaps it was all that was right, and there was some reason that he would find even in death.

He chuckles at the thought because he knew death was nothing. He Knew what was death. Nicodemus had seen it himself. There was no Heaven, and there was no Hell, and for that he smiled wickedly. It was a fool to him that thought that anything in death could be better than what real Hell this world was. But what Nicodemus did not see was that he hadn’t been meant for death….

He opens his eyes, not realizing that they had been closed before, and her words bring him only the faintest hint of a warm embrace. It was his blackened heart conspiring against him at last. “And what if it eludes you?” He whispers, stepping closer to her then, his eyes suddenly desperate and passionate. “What then, Starweaver?”

He feels then that Keir had left him, the wolverine now curiously examining the tigress. He knows that he goes to far when now he presses his neck to hers. Nicodemus knows, and yet he does. A frown crosses his face as he lips her mane then, not moving, only holding her in this embrace. If only....

SEER
**NICODEMUS**

Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us.

FIRE III

Emissary of Andarin, Phoenixsong, Iriase, and Kaikua'ana

Picture and HTML Copyright to Romance 2009