Ruta Skadi
Ruta Skadi perched herself on the cliff, her pale legs swinging over the edge. The rebellion was over, though the outcome was uncertain. God had vanished, and Metatron was plunging for eternity through the abyss. For now the rebels had won.
But there would be others. Others thinking themselves all powerful; perfect creations of a figurative God. It would always be like this, someone, or something, wanting absolute power, and not caring whose lives were torn to bits in the process.
The witch queen closed her eyes. This was not the time to think of such things. The night was beautiful, and the worlds had their temporary freedom, thanks to the love of two children-no-longer-children, and she was alive and watching the aurora blaze overhead.
Her black clothes swirled around her as she stood up, stretching her hands to the heavens. The stars were veritable jewels and the northern lights twisted through them, like a thousand silken scarves in the wind. She twirled herself around, dancing in time to the pulsating lights. She was a beautiful daughter of the night, caught in a sea of colour.
The colours became more vivid, their silent music becoming faster and faster. She raced to keep up, her feet a blur on the edge of the world. Artic wind flew across the sky to join her, coursing through her clothes, making them spread like wings behind her, and running through her veins like wildfire. She would dance until life itself ended.
Her black hair wild around her, and her spirit flying in the wind, Ruta Skadi danced. Danced for all the things that were dying and for all the things that were living. Dancing for love and hate and joy and sorrow. Dancing for nothing else but the sake of dancing.
On and on she danced. Dancing until there was nothing left to dance on. Even then, as she fell through the night, through the unbelievable colours, she danced. She danced as the wind bit her, and as her neck cracked on the hard grey stone. And as her life slipped out of her, and her eyes dimmed, her smile danced across her fine, pale features. She had lived life without complaint, and now she was free to dance forever. No longer earth-bound, she would dance until life itself ended.
Ruta Skadi perched herself on the cliff, her pale legs swinging over the edge. The rebellion was over, though the outcome was uncertain. God had vanished, and Metatron was plunging for eternity through the abyss. For now the rebels had won.
But there would be others. Others thinking themselves all powerful; perfect creations of a figurative God. It would always be like this, someone, or something, wanting absolute power, and not caring whose lives were torn to bits in the process.
The witch queen closed her eyes. This was not the time to think of such things. The night was beautiful, and the worlds had their temporary freedom, thanks to the love of two children-no-longer-children, and she was alive and watching the aurora blaze overhead.
Her black clothes swirled around her as she stood up, stretching her hands to the heavens. The stars were veritable jewels and the northern lights twisted through them, like a thousand silken scarves in the wind. She twirled herself around, dancing in time to the pulsating lights. She was a beautiful daughter of the night, caught in a sea of colour.
The colours became more vivid, their silent music becoming faster and faster. She raced to keep up, her feet a blur on the edge of the world. Artic wind flew across the sky to join her, coursing through her clothes, making them spread like wings behind her, and running through her veins like wildfire. She would dance until life itself ended.
Her black hair wild around her, and her spirit flying in the wind, Ruta Skadi danced. Danced for all the things that were dying and for all the things that were living. Dancing for love and hate and joy and sorrow. Dancing for nothing else but the sake of dancing.
On and on she danced. Dancing until there was nothing left to dance on. Even then, as she fell through the night, through the unbelievable colours, she danced. She danced as the wind bit her, and as her neck cracked on the hard grey stone. And as her life slipped out of her, and her eyes dimmed, her smile danced across her fine, pale features. She had lived life without complaint, and now she was free to dance forever. No longer earth-bound, she would dance until life itself ended.