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Description

The white flakes fell from the sky in small flurries, dancing, jigging, and twisting before settling onto her shoulders. A white blanket that shifted with her as she slumped forwards, the crust of snow cracking as she moved, revealing the damp fabric underneath.

Ignoring the wet cold seeping into her back Scar focused her eyes ahead on the nothingness. A blank horizon devoid of any life, here not even the sun graced the worlds presence. Instead the gray haze of shifting white swirled around where clouds should have been before they too made their way to the earth. Blanketed in white, only the sharp juts of black rock provided any perception of depth in the world she occupied.

On a whim she felt a need to fill the swirling void with something, anything, if for no other reason than to reassure herself that she too was not a part of the empty expanse.

‘This world is dead.’

The words moved from her cracked lips drawing forth a fresh bubble of blood, red, and bright it welled, pooled and fell to the white blanket at her feet.

‘And yet you still come here.’ A voice, cold and stern as the wasteland around her spoke. ‘Here of all places.’

She knew that voice, she had been expecting him. Carefully measuring her expression, she forced her mutilated face to relax as she wiped the blood from her lip.

Behind her the snow crunched as he approached, she did not turn but instead kept her gaze fixed on the gray down of the horizon. For a moment he stood beside her, always on her right, the side with her good eye. He was courteous like that when others might not be so aware.

Unbidden, he sat, his form towering over her by a good head and shoulders still, but the motion did bring his features closer to her own meager height.

‘You must be cold.’ He spoke again, softer this time.

For a second she chanced a look up at his face, careful to keep her head forwards.

‘I like the cold.’ She replied, returning her gaze forwards. ‘As do you. But we both know that, Creator.’

The figure beside her let out a deep sigh, his figure slumping inwards into an awkward hunch.

‘I’ve never liked that title. As you are well aware.’

‘Perhaps you would prefer something more fitting?’ A mocking smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, the right side responding far better than its other half.

Across from her she could feel the man shift uneasily, he had always hated titles, and she knew it well. Weight shifted, snow crunched, he was preparing to leave – and with that sudden realization a sudden welling of guild fueled anxiety crept over her mind.

‘Maybe I should go.’

‘No!’ The word exploded out of her mouth before she could even register it. Reigning in the sudden impulsive outburst she cleared her throat. ‘No. Please, stay.’

‘An-‘ He began, but she cut him off.

‘Scar.’ The muscled around her eyes pulled tight, flexing the knot of scar tissue where her left eye once was. ‘It’s Scar now.’

‘Scar.’ The man rolled the word around, as though examining it like a jeweler attempting to appraise a stone. ‘You had such a pretty name before.’

‘And I lost that part of me, along with my arm.’ To dive home the point, she raised the stump of her right arm, swinging it out to nearly brush against his chest, a cold bitterness creeping into her voice. ‘And a lot more of me too.’

‘Yes.’ Was all he could muster, in a small quiet voice.

For a long time silence reigned. The snow fell around them, Scar, unwilling to talk to the being beside her, and the figure, seemingly content to wait in silence for her to speak. Only when the cold was beginning to overwhelm her, did Scar force herself to swallow her pride.

‘You’ve been negligent in your duties.’

‘I know.’

Description

The white flakes fell from the sky in small flurries, dancing, jigging, and twisting before settling onto her shoulders. A white blanket that shifted with her as she slumped forwards, the crust of snow cracking as she moved, revealing the damp fabric underneath.

Ignoring the wet cold seeping into her back Scar focused her eyes ahead on the nothingness. A blank horizon devoid of any life, here not even the sun graced the worlds presence. Instead the gray haze of shifting white swirled around where clouds should have been before they too made their way to the earth. Blanketed in white, only the sharp juts of black rock provided any perception of depth in the world she occupied.

On a whim she felt a need to fill the swirling void with something, anything, if for no other reason than to reassure herself that she too was not a part of the empty expanse.

‘This world is dead.’

The words moved from her cracked lips drawing forth a fresh bubble of blood, red, and bright it welled, pooled and fell to the white blanket at her feet.

‘And yet you still come here.’ A voice, cold and stern as the wasteland around her spoke. ‘Here of all places.’

She knew that voice, she had been expecting him. Carefully measuring her expression, she forced her mutilated face to relax as she wiped the blood from her lip.

Behind her the snow crunched as he approached, she did not turn but instead kept her gaze fixed on the gray down of the horizon. For a moment he stood beside her, always on her right, the side with her good eye. He was courteous like that when others might not be so aware.

Unbidden, he sat, his form towering over her by a good head and shoulders still, but the motion did bring his features closer to her own meager height.

‘You must be cold.’ He spoke again, softer this time.

For a second she chanced a look up at his face, careful to keep her head forwards.

‘I like the cold.’ She replied, returning her gaze forwards. ‘As do you. But we both know that, Creator.’

The figure beside her let out a deep sigh, his figure slumping inwards into an awkward hunch.

‘I’ve never liked that title. As you are well aware.’

‘Perhaps you would prefer something more fitting?’ A mocking smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, the right side responding far better than its other half.

Across from her she could feel the man shift uneasily, he had always hated titles, and she knew it well. Weight shifted, snow crunched, he was preparing to leave – and with that sudden realization a sudden welling of guild fueled anxiety crept over her mind.

‘Maybe I should go.’

‘No!’ The word exploded out of her mouth before she could even register it. Reigning in the sudden impulsive outburst she cleared her throat. ‘No. Please, stay.’

‘An-‘ He began, but she cut him off.

‘Scar.’ The muscled around her eyes pulled tight, flexing the knot of scar tissue where her left eye once was. ‘It’s Scar now.’

‘Scar.’ The man rolled the word around, as though examining it like a jeweler attempting to appraise a stone. ‘You had such a pretty name before.’

‘And I lost that part of me, along with my arm.’ To dive home the point, she raised the stump of her right arm, swinging it out to nearly brush against his chest, a cold bitterness creeping into her voice. ‘And a lot more of me too.’

‘Yes.’ Was all he could muster, in a small quiet voice.

For a long time silence reigned. The snow fell around them, Scar, unwilling to talk to the being beside her, and the figure, seemingly content to wait in silence for her to speak. Only when the cold was beginning to overwhelm her, did Scar force herself to swallow her pride.

‘You’ve been negligent in your duties.’

‘I know.’