heirofstorms
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Summary
Unlike Gods, soldiers need to prove themselves in the most gruelling ways, and find strength to carry on in unexpected glimpses of the sun behind clouds.
But sometimes the grandest journeys only lead to the most tragic falls. -
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Here, at the very edge of the gods’ domain, everything was darker, and colder, and even the Prince’s sunlight would ever so often fade into a soft flicker that was close to his own.
Far from the watchful eye of Anor Londo. -
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Undeath, creation, absolution; the flesh is disloyal, and so is the stone, temporary.
This is a Rosaria/Leonhard short, mainly about discomfort, suffering and inevitability. It's explicit but not particularly pleasantly so.
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Paolo, leader of the Howlers and Overseer Byrne are exiled to work in the silver mines for five years. What comes next will probably not surprise anyone.
“What does it mean?” He murmurs, breath warm on Paolo’s neck. Unhelpful, again.
“It’s a constellation.” His constellation. He almost feels guilty for not explaining more, like he’s making Byrne complicit in more than just the tattooing, but if he told him he used to get a star for every man he killed he’d question why he wants another now, and Paolo does not like being too open. Old habits. Old selves, buried. “Marks the passing of time.”
“Thought you did that on your thigh, hm?” There’s a particular tone to Byrne’s voice when he suspects something but doesn’t want to say it. The possibility that he understands more about Paolo than he is, or ever was, willing to hand over is a frightening one, and they’d rather just sink under the weight of the moment than discuss it.Cruel men, vicious men, growing soft under the rocks. Not knowing how to.