Iselen and her Rider were already backing uneasily away, uncertainty warring with the coal-brightness of the Rider's eyes.
This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. He has no brother kings to stand beside him, for this is a dream and the Hunt does not dream. The Child is armed, but alone, and not ready for this. Nothing should be a threat to him and yet...
(Thank you, Henry)
...and yet there is fear, and uncertainty. At the name he turns Iselen around and, for the first time, one of the Wild Hunt flees from a mortal man into the sky.
(All of the Child still mortal enough to dream feels young, so young, and wants to cry and cling to some comforting warmth. He doesn't think it will help this horrible feeling, and he thinks somehow he is too old to weep.
The night is cold, though, and there is no one here besides Iselen. His few wayward tears fall into her white, white mane.)
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-03-26 07:53 am (UTC)This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. He has no brother kings to stand beside him, for this is a dream and the Hunt does not dream. The Child is armed, but alone, and not ready for this. Nothing should be a threat to him and yet...
(Thank you, Henry)
...and yet there is fear, and uncertainty. At the name he turns Iselen around and, for the first time, one of the Wild Hunt flees from a mortal man into the sky.
(All of the Child still mortal enough to dream feels young, so young, and wants to cry and cling to some comforting warmth. He doesn't think it will help this horrible feeling, and he thinks somehow he is too old to weep.
The night is cold, though, and there is no one here besides Iselen. His few wayward tears fall into her white, white mane.)