Tag: fingolfin

moringottos:

What happens when we don’t dread our own body breaking
We can see the dark clouds start to seethe above us
We were never meant to be such vessels of physical form
You doubt and you’re desperate
You wear both your cross and your hammer
Such beautiful dreams of violence
In them your tongue is made of silver
But we don’t fight like animals, we fight like gods

It tastes like salt and rust, drips down the side of his face and smears behind his teeth. The weight of the crown presses down heavy and cold and he can barely see through the iron, the silver glint and as they dance around each other, blood through water he cannot tell where one ends and the other begin. It is bright and furious, some summer storm rolling in from a dark distance, all destruction and hate for a moment and when the dust settles what will be left but the ruin of them.

It will be the ruin of them both, and he has never felt so alive.

He is laughing as the hammer comes down, again and again, leaving pits from which darkness flowers, wraps around them like a veil of dirt and death and rage.

“You wish for death, o king, then let me give it to you.”