[ ϟ ]
[ saga continued from x ]
[ ϟ ]—– What had flowed from him had been truth; unlike most words from his sibling they were not forced outward, not compelled to be uttered by anything else but his own earnest desire to do so, love, eternal love for his brother, breeding truths easily when it came to matters of the heart.
His heart. That stubborn, overly loud, overly present organ, forcing life through his being with steady, strong pulses, a rhythm that turns to a roar once anger burst forward, and dual fires - god of light, god of thunder - ignite simultaneously. His heart, that staggered from the remarks, that other truth invading ears and skull, the impact of it cause for but a flickering, minuscule halt. The barest of pauses before it continued its workings, unstoppable by even the worst of pains.
‘ More?’
Anger was always quick to arise, the first to awaken after accusations, and it burns so easily through him, following familiar paths that light has carved through his entire form, for all his life. Only a spark was needed, yet the remarks had been flames, no, an eruption of molten lava, expelled through golden eyes and released by ever-earnest tongue, anguish heard within brother’s tone, his own turning voice hoarse and leaving limbs slightly trembling.
‘ You scold me for caring? You dare weigh my heart, and deem what I give you, what I give my people, insufficient for your needs?’
And it rages on, that flow of life that is now thunder in his ears, the cause of it all thudding loudly within heaving chest.
‘ I would give my life for you. I will give my life for you all. I am bound to this world with bonds no one can sever. I prance with the mortals, because unlike us, they do not have the strength to rival demons, they do not have kin that would stand beside them with shield and weapon. I prance with the mortals, because they are divided, fragile and exposed to grander horrors than they have ever faced before. Unlike us they do not have anyone else to fight for them.’
Fury weakens then, the sight before him bringing forth a wash of hurt, blazing fire doused with clear vision of defeat. His heart. That stubborn, overly powerful, overly large organ, that accepted all and refused none, now ached, each pulse sending a pang and a reminder, an unsteady drum of not enough, not enough, not enough...
‘ Each one of our own has brothers and sisters aplenty, bound by honor and love for this realm, for each other, willing but more than that, capable, of withstanding. Truth Speaker you may be, but a mind reader you are not bróðir. You know naught of my thoughts, nor of my heart for that matter... ’
