●|Ink-filled Oasis|● Miscellaneous Writing

🔷🔸Frost Giant🔸🔷

Fandom: Wings of Fire

Winds spiral in the air, their movements frantic and incalculable. The cold air is prickling the morning sunrise with a thin layer of mist. Powdered pine and fern tower over this lands' frozen territory. Warmth sprouts from the rising sun, and signs of life linger throughout the barren colors of white, brown, and gray. Actually, the thought of life living in a space filled with practically nothing is humorous. However, nature decided against it and provides an entire ecosystem dedicated to tundras. Strange. Still, while looking around, isolation certainly fits the role for a wasteland such as this.

Isolation...

How sweet the word sounds rolling off the tongue. Isolation. Yes, it's truly fitting for someone yearning to escape their past. They rot in the bittersweet taste of isolation, clueless as it slowly eats away at their soul. The process is slow because of how painful it is. If the corruption happened overnight, you'd go mad. Solitude leaves you alone with yourself, one of the greatest enemies you'll face. Can you imagine the suffering? The sensation of pain coursing through your body even though there's no wounds inflicting it.

Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. It's hard to explain how isolation truly reacts when someone like myself enjoys it.

Most of the time.

I enjoy isolation most of the time.

As the sun continues to crawl into the sky, the seclusion is welcoming. I feel the numbing air brush along my scales as I stand here, simply looking over the edge. Being alone like this...it's peaceful. My mind is slowly neutralized by beauty and I'm grateful for it. I don't have to think about anything. All I have to do is stare, stare out and gaze at this beautiful sunrise. Pale, warm colors are graciously taking their time to highlight the snow powdered onto the land. My talons itch to throw myself into the sky. I could do it. I could soar through the crisp morning air and appreciate it.

Why don't I? There's something holding me back... Ah, I see it. I see the shackles clipped to my legs. They've been there for so long, I wonder if they could snap in my grasp.

That's when I realize the other type of isolation.

The type that stabs your mind with thousands of knives.

I can recall the ominous darkness, the pain that crawled up and down my body. Cold stone pressed against my blue-stained underbelly. I was weak, barely kept alive so that I could "learn." My shackles were stronger, locking me into the ground. Amongst it all was the haunting isolation. There was no one who I could reach out to, setting off the corruption. The thoughts poisoned my mind with its soft whispers, stacking high in my jumbled mind. Darkness worsens the situation. There's not light, there's no hope. Isolation convinced myself that death awaited me the next day.

I accepted it.

I didn't expect much, honestly. Everyone I met automatically hated me. They have a right to. Who would want to associate themselves with a cold-hearted monster? No one. My existence is compiled of hatred. Hatred from the dragon I thought was my mother. She molded me into her obedient weapon. "Do this," she would command. "Kill them," she would hiss. Never was there a time when she would praise me with affection. She never acted like a mother. I didn't know.

I never knew she only displayed authority and disgust because that's the only thing I grew around. She doesn't know how to love, only how to kill. What mother would put their child on the brink of death? Mine, because I stood my ground for once. I momentarily snapped the shackles and used my voice. I questioned the tyrant's morals.