понедельник, 20 декабря 2010
Фэндом: World of Warcraft
Название: Winter's End
Жанр: ангст
Рейтинг: G
Дисклеймер: Все права принадлежат Близзарду.
читатьThe Lich King is no more and the Horde begins pulling back its forces. Withe flies through abandoned outposts and former battlefields.
There is little left to do in Northrend now, so she watches snow fall, rivers flow and listens to thunder rolling. Sometimes she finds herself engaging the aimlessly wandering Scourge and perhaps gets attacked herself. She doesn't know, feeling almost just as mindless as them.
Withe is troubled.
She was born and killed in Lordaeron, the human thug girl she used to be. She was raised and sent off laying waste to this kingdom, like the raving abomination she was made to. She followed Sylvannas, like the free Undead she was...
But it is only the cold and huge Ice Crown citadel Withe truly felt at home, stalking and hiding in its halls.
Withe is confused.
The constant pulling is gone. Instead, she feels sadness she had not perceived before her death nor after. She feels a longing, resembling home-sickness.
The emotions seem foreign, like a heart put into a body, but not connected to the veins. Heavy and alien it is set in her chest, hurting and serving no purpose.
Withe is afraid.
She fought like no other for the Forsaken and she'd be the first to spit on the Damned Prince. Withe chose her masters and her alliances. It was, after all, what defined her. You can't choose what you become. You can only choose who you serve.
And, stumbling through the deserted lands, Withe wonders, if she chose wrong.
@темы:
World of Warcraft,
фанфики,
гейминг
-
-
14.09.2011 в 18:30Одна из твоих лучших работ, имхо.
-
-
14.09.2011 в 20:36