A Dreamless Rest

(This topic is for the death of Rylatha. I don't mind if it is a read-only post, but if anyone wants to roleplay them coming in and discovering the body or something, I don't mind that either. But it'll only really be looking into her thoughts, emotions, etc.. It is basically a do-what-you-want-with-it post, hehe!)

Rylatha knew that she was sick. She had known for a while. Why she didn't tell anyone, she did not know. . . Her best reasoning was this:

She was blind. Why, why did she have to live like this? Having other dragons to catch your own prey, needing them to guide you around to make sure you down fall down a rabbit hole or something. . . Heck, she didn't even contribute to anything!! All she did was lay around, eating and sleeping. Although she knew that she had a few dragons who cared for her, Rylatha felt like nothing. She was a burden. That's all she was.

She felt pathetic. . . She wanted to help. She really did. She wanted to hunt, to help fight the monsters. But nope, she can't!! Because of her STUPID blindness!!

So there she lay, alone, the Duchess of the Twilight Imperium, the ex-goddess of the hunt and monsters. Rylatha felt her heart in her chest, beating feebly. It felt as if she could barely stand, her bones were so weak. It was like her ribcage was crumbling away, about to collapse on her heart and lungs. Rylatha sensed her eyelids getting heavy, exhaustion flooding throughout her limbs. It was a nice life. . . She had a great father, Cosmos, not to mention an equally great brother, Baldirak. . . Not to mention her old mates, like Vyur and Gralfalda. And then there was Vilkas. . . And Amadeus. . . Evaleen. . . Tangromavren. Her cute little precious babies. . . Oh, and of course, her years as a goddess! It was a short yet fine time, having sight and being able to serve her Tribe properly, along with being able to summon and create monstrous creatures to protect them. It was nice. . . Very nice. . .

And on that thought, that final thought, Rylatha closed her eyes and never opened them again.

The Twilight King now fully understood what his mate was feeling--not that he had not shared her pain before with the fall of the Imperium. But the EarthWing had witnessed such a fall before and thus was not impacted as greatly. This, however, was not something Baldirak was prepared for. His sibling was dead.

Baldirak had been quite busy of late, the only one the Twilight Survivors had to look to for guidance. During the day, he studied every creature his nephew brought before him. He flew to Daelorios to share his findings with the ElderWings and inquire about their progress in finding a solution. His nights were spent praying to the gods he believed still existed. Or trying in vain to bring his mate back, who was right in front of him and yet a world away. Most nights he did both, leaving little room for sleep. As a result of all this, he had not visited his half-sister in some time.

The EarthWing was too familiar with the scent of death not to recognize it. And so when the scent wafted to his nostrils from the direction of Rylatha's den, his blood ran cold. He knew there was no one but Ryla in the den, yet he approached slowly, as if he expected someone to come running out. The only comfort the King had as he crept forward, every fiber of his being screaming athim to turn and run as he did,was that he didn't smell blood. At least his beloved sibling had not been killed. Still...

Baldirak's pale blue eyes adjusted to the den. Rylatha seemed sleeping rather than dead--she was curled up and looked quite peaceful. The larger Dragon might have thought--and indeed hoped--that she were only sleeping, that the death scent came from some fresh kill... But nothing of the sort was in the den, had never been. Only Rylatha. Baldirak couldn't move; he was barely even breathing. His right foreleg was unbearable to stand on and yet he felt no pain. If one had called his name he would not have heard them. He couldn't even see anymore--salted water clouded his vision.

The anguished roar that left the King's maw--a roar he could not hear--could have been heard from the smaller continent of the LightWings and SkyWings. Perhaps it could have been heard from the other side of the world. It was a sound none would have wished an enemy to be subjected to. It itself could have killed, for any who heard it might die of a broken heart, so incredibly sorrowful was the cry. The EarthWings possessed a powerful roar that could cause earthquakes, split the ground in two... The Twilight King, so absorbed in his anguish and unaware this trait was allowed to surface, produced an earthquake that might have destroyed the Ebonwing Isles--at least the one he was on--if it had continued a moment longer than it did. Needless to say, it took a very long time after for the King to realize what had happened while he stood there.

For now, though, Baldirak fell before his sister. He lay down, his snout touching Rylatha's cold face. The salted water fell from his eyes and onto the ground. He would cry for so long that mud began to form on either side of him. How cruel it was that that should happen. If Ryla had been injured and still alive, the mud would have helped. But for this, the soggy earth did nothing. "...Rylatha..." was all Baldirak managed to say for the four hours he lay there.

Vilkas returned to the isles a little before sundown. He had not been able to catch any monsters today. What he saw on arrival frightened him: the island looked as if a great earthquake had hit it. He thought for a moment that the monsters had found them at last and attacked. No. Everyone was accounted for. There were no bodies or blood or anything of that sort. It must have been some earthquake...

The young Guardian always visited his mother in the evening to let her know he was okay and tell her about his day. So naturally, she was his first stop in making sure no one had been hurt during the earthquake. "Mother, I--" Vilkas stopped in his tracks when he saw his uncle. Suddenly, he became aware of something he hadn't noticed: the scent of death. Hearing his uncle crying, Vilkas didn't need to ask. The spikey EarthWing/FireWing Demi god crawled under his mother's foreleg--even though he was a bit too big to do so and was, well, covered in spikey scales--and curled up. Vilkas had been all his mother had left, after all his siblings abandoned them. As such, he always appeared to be strong around his mother and uncle, never letting them see him vulnerable. He had to be strong for his mother who was--had been--a Wise One. But now, Vilkas whimpered like a Hatchling, cuddling into his mother and praying to whatever deity that she would wake up, that she were merely sleeping.

For the next three days, Uncle and Nephew lay in the den of Rylatha, crying until it was no longer possible for tears to be produced. At some point, they rose and buried Ryla. After, they resumed their mourning, remaining in the den for a week. Vilkas eventually left to eat and drink and do what his mother would want: for him to keep on with life as normal. Baldirak, however, would not be moved from his place. Food did not matter; water was not essential; the monsters were no longer a problem; his mate and his subjects did not need him. All that mattered was his sister was gone... and he had not been here to see her go.