[ countless times he had died and been reborn, sometimes in the fires of Surtur, other times by the ruin of his own making, yet every time he returned to the same place: the Void. every time he grasped and fought, spawning from it once again. through the passing of one existence to the next, he had become more and more submerged in the role that he had written for himself, echoed on the tongues of those that remembered it.
and so, he had burned. it was glorious and terrible at once, and while his memory was fractured, he remembered that.
unraveling, the knuckles that she kisses slide against the wall and across her shoulders with an easy manner that he had lacked upon their reunion. ]
That doesn't sound too bad.
[ he admits lowly. the embrace of other selves wraps around him, tugs insistently when ignored. ]
no subject
and so, he had burned. it was glorious and terrible at once, and while his memory was fractured, he remembered that.
unraveling, the knuckles that she kisses slide against the wall and across her shoulders with an easy manner that he had lacked upon their reunion. ]
That doesn't sound too bad.
[ he admits lowly. the embrace of other selves wraps around him, tugs insistently when ignored. ]
Turning to ash ...