False Bravado
11-17-2013, 12:45 PM
The first time that she saw him, she didn't have the courage to step forward. A dream within a dream, seeing her father, seeing him as he once was, alive and healthy and so very young - she couldn't do it. Seeing him at his greatest point, seeing how tall and proud and beautiful he was when he was leading young Valhalla, the woman's feet would not propel her forward. And so she would close her eyes and let it all fade away - waking up only moments after falling asleep.
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It was after the war that she would faint, fall so deeply into slumber that she was haunted with the same dream. Her dreams it seemed, would haunt her with the faded reflection of her father, pristine and elegant as he once was, her heart pounded at the scene - just as fresh and new and breathtaking as it was the first time that she had seen it. It was as if it was in the same place that she had left, as if he had been waiting - waiting for her. Her lips quivered, and her heart throbbed painfully as she realized that even here, her vision was impaired. Never again would she see out of her right eye, not even in her dreams. She could only wonder whether it was an ugly a scar as she felt it was, a glorious beacon, shining harshly upon her inadequacy. Never would she be anything like her father, never would she carry Valhalla high and mighty as he once did. She knew it, surely her siblings new it, and now Glaciem knew it for sure.
They would be back, and there was nothing that she could do to stop them.
Nothing would ever be alright again.
"Father I..." She would slink forward, her nose nearly touching the ground. Inwardly she would weep for the legacy that he had left behind, and that she had singlehandedly let die. Valhalla had lost, the pack's lands were in ruins... "I failed you, failed Valhalla..." Surely he had appeared here to scold her, to tell her how badly she had failed him, to tell her what she already knew. "They took three men, injured so many..." And she had fainted on the field, lost her eye to their Queen. "I didn't defend them," At least, not the way that she had wanted to. She should have died fighting out there. Not the man they had slayed on their borders... innocent should not have been blighted - not on her territory, not because of her mistakes.
"I'm sorry." Words could never recover what had been lost or repair what was now in ruins. But perhaps within her own dreams, she would be able to come close to conveying her regret.
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It was after the war that she would faint, fall so deeply into slumber that she was haunted with the same dream. Her dreams it seemed, would haunt her with the faded reflection of her father, pristine and elegant as he once was, her heart pounded at the scene - just as fresh and new and breathtaking as it was the first time that she had seen it. It was as if it was in the same place that she had left, as if he had been waiting - waiting for her. Her lips quivered, and her heart throbbed painfully as she realized that even here, her vision was impaired. Never again would she see out of her right eye, not even in her dreams. She could only wonder whether it was an ugly a scar as she felt it was, a glorious beacon, shining harshly upon her inadequacy. Never would she be anything like her father, never would she carry Valhalla high and mighty as he once did. She knew it, surely her siblings new it, and now Glaciem knew it for sure.
They would be back, and there was nothing that she could do to stop them.
Nothing would ever be alright again.
"Father I..." She would slink forward, her nose nearly touching the ground. Inwardly she would weep for the legacy that he had left behind, and that she had singlehandedly let die. Valhalla had lost, the pack's lands were in ruins... "I failed you, failed Valhalla..." Surely he had appeared here to scold her, to tell her how badly she had failed him, to tell her what she already knew. "They took three men, injured so many..." And she had fainted on the field, lost her eye to their Queen. "I didn't defend them," At least, not the way that she had wanted to. She should have died fighting out there. Not the man they had slayed on their borders... innocent should not have been blighted - not on her territory, not because of her mistakes.
"I'm sorry." Words could never recover what had been lost or repair what was now in ruins. But perhaps within her own dreams, she would be able to come close to conveying her regret.