[PK] Respite

[Unwillingly 11107]

It happened too fast.

It wasn’t supposed to end this quickly.

 

---

For all of his blind remorse and blurred vision, Eir’thall understood all too well the fate that met him. He understood all too well that nothing, not even the work of the gods above, could repair the consequence of his own grief.

Regret surged above all. Above his grief, above his wroth, and above the discomfort of the spear lodged through his torso. Perhaps, he figured, it was something every suicidal maniac experiences in their dying moments. This… regret. The idea lessened his concern, but not the struggle he found himself in. He felt the shaft of the spear around every move, every breath he tried to take, and even in the trembling of his jaw.

He felt the silence in the air, a million eyes that watched with what he assumed was shock. He’d be shocked, too. Hell, he was surprised he had the guts to commit in the first place. How funny is it, that for a man of such pride and confidence, these tiny revelations follow him to death? If he could drag in even a sliver of air, he’d surely have laughed in that moment.

He hoped to speak, to say something worthwhile, but he only felt the warm spill of blood pour from his lips. The taste of iron brought back a flash of nostalgia, an almost comforting reminder to the brawls he shared with those he called brother and sister. It eased him, just a little, and he pretended his wound wasn’t the death-sentence it actually was. It’s just a pinprick stab, don’t look at it.

But it wasn’t, no matter how much he tried to convince himself.

Eir’thall’s knees trembled. He had been standing for some time, after all, and he felt the weight of the spear drag down. He’d lift his gaze to the one who held it — a familiar face, one he swore he’d seen before, but couldn’t put a name to it. For a moment, he almost thought he starred in the mirror. It was the same panicked, regret-filled churn of his face that reminded Eir’thall of himself in those moments. How ironic is it, that one of the few times he was actually sorry for something, was in his own dying? Gods above, making me mull in it. I get it, I’ve been a ****.

Someone’s hand set itself to the back of his head. He didn’t know whose it was, but he accepted its support nonetheless — his head felt awfully heavy, the muscles of his neck straining to support it. He felt the warmth of the bonfire nearby, the hold of its flames against his side, and he closed his eyes. He pretended he slept beneath a canopy of yellow and orange, and that was all he needed.

 

It was like going to sleep.

 

Spoiler

Goddamn. That was a tear-jerker. Fantastic RP from @ThumperJack, @WestCarolina, @Valannor, and those at the vale. A satisfying end to an "interesting" character among the wood elves. 

Eir'thall has been collecting dust for a while now. The druid/welf community will always have a place in my heart, but for now, I'm focusing on other RP endeavors. Maybe one day I'll stop by on a new character :)

Tribute art, because this is probably my favorite art of any character I've had (creds to Josey). He might be dead, but I'm never getting rid of this. 



RIP brother wildfire :(

 

[WestCarolina 1779]

"I only hope such ire that strangled his heart, and unleashed toward his kin, can find balance in the Eternal Forest," Spoke a Mali'ame after setting flames to the Druid's lifeless body. Yet the irony in this action came two fold. Her brother - he who exemplified the fiery, chaotic side of nature, can now rest alongside the newly spirited Cinder, her best friend. 

 

"Let both their fires continue to burn," Miven murmured, now setting off to tend to the wounds of her other. 

[ThumperJack 923]

Eonan stared at the burning remains of the Wildfire for mere moments that felt like hours. He had not known the mali'ame man as well as others nearby, yet the man has unknowingly sparked a conflict in the wolf's heart many years prior. He had realized at that moment, years ago, that he had been speaking with his opposite. A man built upon fire, unbridled emotion, and a chaotic drive unmatched. 

 

Yet he was still kin. A wood elf. A man lost to his own pain. Another who sought death to cure it. This reality shattered the wolf's heart.

 

"I am so sorry, mal'onn."

[Criala 728]

The situation had already been almost over by the time Rosalia found herself in the square, using her sister as a leaning post. A frown tugged at her lips, upon spotting the face of a friend she'd not seen in decades. A man who had been the first to greet her when she found herself in the Father Grove of Elvenesse so long ago. 

 

Eir'thall.

 

As his body fell lifeless to the ground, her frown deepened.

 

I hope you can find peace. A peace you didn't seem to have in life.

 

The look on her face was worn, a pain in her eyes. Exhaustion creeped over her, from the death of a man she called her friend, along with somehing else that already plagued her.

 

I'm so... Tired of death.

[Sykogenic 1284]

The tears no longer fell.

 

Not out of callous, but of the simple fact that there were none left.

 

His friends were all dying, he could only wonder how much long it was until Xan called his name.

 

"May your memory be a blessing, rest well my friend."

[Callum 927]

L

[QueenGeorge 124]

"Another one so soon?"  Said the halfling who awaited all those who passed into the eternal forest, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she spied the form of another newly arrived Brother. "I can't help but be reminded of the sad times in my druidic youth."

 

Unless another who he already knew came first, she'd soon approach. Moving through any lands of the Forest with a familiar ease to greet him wherever he'd appear in Dayward, Twilight, Nightfall or the lands in-between. The Lamb Druid, now shepherdess of souls, would come to welcome him.

 

"Welcome Brother."

 

She'd greet simply, and from then on what happened was up to him. If he sought to find anybody, she'd gladly guide or direct him. If he wanted answers, she'd give what ones she knew. If he simply wished to rest, then she'd wish him all the best and give him the space he desired free of distractions or pestering fae. She simply wished to aid her Brother to be at peace.

[Acostrob 254]

"Welcome home, Brother Wildfire." A force stirred in the Eternal Forest, that of the Osprey.