S H U F F L E

[warmaiden]

SHUFFLE MEME ⟲

Ever hear a song and think it's the perfect thing to write a tag to? Now's your chance! Turn on that ipod, ipad, iphone, google play, spotify playlist, and hit that shuffle button!      - Shuffle your music      - Make a top comment, but do not leave it blank!      - Post the lyrics or a video link to the song you got on random, or a few songs.      - You're not required to obey the shuffle gods, but it is half the fun.      - Comment to people's threads, making up a tag based on lyrics!

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[dreamspinning]

"Is that truly a question that requires asking? So very many things are possible." His smile is gentle, crooked. It is so strange to see himself for what he has been, lost as a madling, and it is only by dint of the fact that he is already holding the hand of his other self that he does not reach out to smooth his hair.

"Where is it you have been, my brother?" His eyes cast about, searching for Godslayer. Does he yet know of the secrets in the Navel of the World? Has he seen Darkhaven fall? Or does he still mourn the loss of their Mother, the loss of the Were? After all his time in Asgard, his gifts blunted to mere toys, the Helm nothing more than broken armor and Godslayer reduced to a mere dagger, Ushahin feels as though he has finally been released from purgatory. He is once again truly the Dreamspinner, the last--or perhaps not exactly the last--of the Three. It is once again time to remember the lessons of the Eldest.

It seems silly, that such a short time has changed one who has lived so many years, but there is nothing to change a madman like a mad world. There is only too much that the other Dreamspinner might mourn, but Ushahin does his other self the favor of waiting for him to answer.

[ushahin]

"Darkhaven is gone. Our Lord, Tanaros, and Vorax as well. You and I are all that is left." The words come soft, sounding tired and drained. His voice breaks only on the last word. He's spent so much of himself on grief that he barely has any strength left to stand before himself.

Godslayer lies at his belt, its pulsating red light as bright as ever. The Helm was with him too, left on the saddle of his horse, which was tethered nearby. He gazes into his own familiar-yet-not eyes, wondering where this other self has come from. Maybe it was a sign of true madness, his mind finally collapsing in on itself, conjuring up his own image to comfort him at his lowest point.