Hydaelyn Role-Players

Snow, again... It seemed like every time he returned home it was snowing. Here where the divines had cut their losses and retreated, having lost the battle to the snow and the ever growing gloomy landscape.
 
Even now as the snow danced in tune to the wind the cold could give comfort. The waltz of the snowflake, ever speeding downward on it's dissent to the earth below would have it's dance cut short by a curious ear, furred and twitching lightly as if feeling sorrow for the interruption. 

The ear turned slightly although It would catch nothing more then the deafening blanket of a whisper of wind, and the army of snow falling from above. Icy blue eyes turned upward, as if trying to count the invading army.
The tired sheen that had grasped them so firmly was not from the seemingly Never ending snow, It was from the weight of the past. Each mistake another foot of snow, each failure an icy wind. 

And yet step after step, he cast his path through the snow, wading through it. Why? What was on the other end? A warm hearth? 

That hearth had burnt out long ago.

The Snow clung to his armored boots, trying to drag him down into them, whispering to him how much warmer it could be underneath, coaxing him to believe. 

 The crunching of fallen brethren came slower, until it all together stopped. The miqo'te catching a blast of wind in his face as if the cold itself was celebrating it's victory over him. As quickly as it slapped him it was gone, leaving him in a A deafening silence, the snow drowning out all sound, so quiet was it that he could almost hear each flake joining it's brethren below him. He simply stood letting the quiet wrap around him like the blanket the snow offered, slowly turning in a circle.

In all directions there was nothing but a cloudy grey, his world swallowed by it. In some ways it was a familiar comfort,  more odd would it be if it was sunshine. His eyes traced his path through the snow his footprints marking his past conquest for all to see, that is if anyone was there to see it. 

He turned then resuming his course, the wind picking up for a second assault on his face, in protest of his defiance. He was not far off now, his body tensing more and more with each step. In truth this was the hardest part of the journey. Not the snow, the cold or the wind.

The sight of the graves coming into sight.

Despite how many times he had come here....the Impact of them emerging from the foggy landscape always caught his breath in his throat. As if reliving the first discovery. It hit him harder then any blow he had ever taken in the order, left a wound that would not heal with time. 

He hesitated for a few moments, each time this happened the markers testing his conviction. Perhaps if he did not see them...then They were not gone? If that was the case then why did he resume walking forward? He most certainly did not want them dead and gone.

"Papa's home little one."

A smile fought forward onto his face, as if the small gravestone could see his somber expression. The smile was tired, forced his eyes still weary despite his best efforts. His daughter nor his wife would have been happy with his current look, which is why he fought the inner turmoil to put his best face forward. 

Even if it was a losing fight.

Each breath was like dragons fire melting the snow that floated around him. His eyes going from one marker to the next, kneeling in front of the marker, his gauntleted hand moving slowly to brush away the snow tidying up the area. He had to keep his hands moving, focused or surely madness would take him.

"I haven't found who did this yet....but Papa's looking, don't worry little one." he choked back a sniffle. Swallowing hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyes averted to keep the wetness from growing. Instead they would find the charred remains of a house not far and with it a new emotion. 

Rage. 

The snow tossed itself into the air, back up to his feet as he gripped his hands tightly together, the cold metal creaking underneath his vengeance fueled grip. Roaring out, a madness finally coming out, shouting obscenities, nightmare-fueled curses and ranting that 
would put a villain to shame. 

"I'll kill them! I'll cut them down, and I'll make them pay tenfold for what they did! I swear this to you both!" 

His breath was ragged, his eyes wide, gone was the tired replaced with a crazy look which could only be fueled by a soul broken. 

The wind slapped him harder then it ever had, and he could have sworn it stung just like one of his wife's slaps. She always could hit him just the right way to make it hurt...even For him who was well versed in taking blows. He blinked, looking down at the gravestones, scratching the back of his head a moment later, the same thing he used to do when getting scolded. 

"Right, sorry dear." 

He kissed both gravestones, holding onto a worn little scrap of cloth. Placing his usual offering, he turned then giving one last look over his shoulder, his eyes once more bright and alive. No wind, no snow, no mistake would hold him down. His footsteps strong and sturdy as he began to push his way back the way he came.  Always wondered what kept him going and really the answer was simple. 

Trudging forward was the only way to make sure it wouldn't happen to someone else.