Sins/Virtues Prompt Meme

masterofbirds:

Late to the party due to revamping my Legacy Page, but here goes:

Send me a character from my legacy and a Sin or a Virtue (or both) and I will write a drabble prompted by it.

Sins:
Wrath
Greed
Sloth
Pride
Lust
Envy
Gluttony

Virtues:
Chastity
Temperance
Charity
Diligence
Patience
Kindness
Humility

( For Ruetto, Sai’bariel, Denastien, whoever. )

Wrath, Denastien - ( like, way late sorry andy <3 )

He was lost in a blizzard.  The waves upon waves of heavy ice and snow both froze and burned his bare skin until he fell to his knees and resorted to crawling about on his palms through the nearly endless rolling hills.  He knew the exit was just straight ahead.  It had been no more than thirty feet before him a moment ago.  He had seen it, before Denastien had unleashed an unearthly scream and rained a bitter, frozen hell from the ceiling of the holding chamber.

Denauriel grasped handfuls of hard, icy snow in his hands.  He raised his head, assured he would see the gateway out.  Where his hope and freedom should be, stood the small ( yet impassable ) obstacle in his way.

Denastien’s robes swirled and billowed in the storm, his pale gold hair had lost a great deal of its natural shine and curl.  His features were sunken and harsh, rather than the soft, angelic appearance Denauriel had grown up adoring.

“You tried to leave.”  The younger brother’s voice was a hiss, not quite as piercing as the shards of frozen water that pricked his cheeks and made him bleed.  The mage didn’t flinch at a single one of them.  The mounds of snow and ice Denauriel knelt over took a life of its own, thick chains coiling around his ankles and wrists, around his narrow waist.  The once-strong, proud elf struggled with great effort, admirable effort.

Denastien watched with cold eyes as his brother slowly lost resolve and energy, irises bright as lamps.  It wasn’t until Denauriel ceased his struggles that Denastien grew animated once more, a slender hand raised, palm facing skyward, fingers curling quickly into a fist.  The blizzard ceased, a far calmer wind blowing.  Denastien approached his fallen brother and knelt, face harsh and cruel.  He grasped at Denauriel’s hair, pulling the elf upward to look where he directed.

“How does it feel to know you were inches from your alleged freedom?”  He rasped, nose and ears as pale white as the snow upon the ground.  To their left, only just an arm’s length away was the heavy, rune-scribed door out of the chamber.

“It must kill you, Dena.  I hope it drives you insane.  Perhaps then you can understand the full extent of my own insanity, my own sorrow at your actions, your poor choices.”  Chains lifted and directed Denauriel like a puppet on strings to the far end of the room as the snow and ice cleared like it never existed.  The heavy links of ice bound themselves to the wall, holding Denauriel over a circle of crudely etched runes.  The older brother breathed heavily, dull red hair running in scraggles down his shoulders, his head bowed.  After a moment of silence, and with great effort, Denauriel turned his gaze to Denastien.

“You aren’t my brother.  That’s what brings sorrow to me.”

Denastien’s expression cleared and he swallowed hard, his lips trembling.

“I only want- … I just- …”  His expression cleared, bright eyes brimming with tears as his features softened, a bit of color returning to his face.  His hands shook and he wrung them together fretfully, his very knees shaking with utter wretchedness.

With a burst of anguish, Denastien fled the room, the door scraping against the floor, runes flashing and pulsing with a sense of finality to them as the chamber was sealed behind him.