Winter

Alone. Weeks go by with the blink of an eye, months fly on the other side of the closed window just as quickly as the swooping birds. Yet nothing changes. The letters go out, but no reply ever comes. It happened again, didn't it? He never wanted to leave, but it wasn't much of a choice. It wouldn't be long before his last energies dripped away, thanks to the disease. If anything, he lessened her burden by saying that last goodbye and vanishing off to the world, rather than staying and having the two suffer from the slow process that is death by Energy Bleeding. "She brought out the best of me, a part that I might never see again." Zerathur stood up with a single swift movement, action which was soon followed by the pain of a thousand knives cutting through the flesh and scraping the bone. He tumbled forward but managed to catch himself before hitting the ground, scraping the front legs on the rough wooden floors. With a silent mutter, he cast Chloromantic Healing to numb the pain and slightly restore the frail muscles to a working state. The dull eyes watched in silence as thick blue liquid formed over the scrapes, a bit of it dripping and soaking into the boards. Khas, it may have been months since his return to the living, but the body still doesn't seem to realize such. Grunting, the chloromancer rose to his hooves once more. Huh, his kind truly is doomed if he's the last of 'em... There's still hope that others escaped, but it's been too long since he last saw another survivor, they might as well have died off. He dragged himself along the wall, leaning against it for support as he made his way off the room and down the stairs. And then he heard it: A heavy knock on the front door, followed by three softer taps and a soft whistle. That was far too familiar. He rushed towards the door, ignoring the pain of the muscles and the blood that dripped from his front legs, stumbling across the foyer with all speed he could muster, reaching out for the doorknob. "Tink!" He halted, the door halfway open. There was no one outside. He lowered the gaze, poked the head out for a moment, but found nothing. The pain and lack of sleep must be finally catching up. With a sigh, the grey stallion closed the door again and locked it. With adrenaline still pumping through the three hearts, he slowly made his way back in, off to the kitchen to get bandages and medication.