Isolation

"Isolation" is a [SEASON NUMBER] thread written on [IRL DATE].
==Summary==
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==Full Text==
38.
“Da? Who’s that?”
The burly, bearded man looked down at his daughter and then up at the cool evening mountainside they were traveling down with their tiny donkey, Snuffles. He followed her pudgy finger pointing up at where the ridge met the sky, and spotted a hunched-over figure, clutching a staff. Their cloak was too heavy to make out any details from this distance. They were still enough to look like a part of the scenery; he was impressed she had caught sight of them.
“Oh.” He huffed and tugged Snuffles’ reins for the fourth time, re-starting her tremulous climb down the mountains. “Nobody knows, Liss. He’s been around since I was as wee as yerself. He’s a half-breed that don’t talk or move. If you try to move him, he disappears back to his spot. Yer mum is one of th’ ones down in the village who comes up here ta give him a parcel of food every now an’ then. Bit of a village tradition, started…oh, so many years ago. I forget. I suppose somethin’ is eatin’ it, hopefully it’s him.”
As the cart rattled down the mountain, Liss continued watching the half-breed with big eyes, until he disappeared from sight.
142.
The apocalypse could be gorgeous, sometimes. It took several exposures to the complete and total annihilation of humanity to appreciate it, but it was always truly a sight to behold.
The seas howled and churned nearly a mile below the hooves of a short half-breed standing on the edge of a cliff face, and thunder and rain destroyed the air around him and rendered him essentially deaf and blind in the driving storm. Nevertheless, he looked. He tipped his face out towards the sea, and in the distance, where the storm had turned sickly green and blue, it flashed erratically and rolled in his direction. His mouth opened slightly and he felt the acidic, stinging aftertaste of aether, and the nausea and dizziness that followed. It would only grow more lethal with each passing minute.
It didn’t matter.
206.
A round, cavernous room, except entirely empty, the only decorations being a ring of painted runic words inscribed on the continuous wall. A bundle of dark auburn and black fur in the center, his head fixated on the words before him, a stick of writing charcoal in his hoof, tapping anxiously on the ground in front of him and shedding small black flecks across the stone. He got to his hooves and strode forward, putting a hand over one of the phrases and smudging it as he rubbed over it from right to left.
…so you can feel as though you’re helping?…
His fist clenched over the last word. He stood shaking for several minutes before suddenly furiously rubbing his hoof over the offending words, blurring them into a thick stripe of black soot, and then he turned and threw his writing utensil across the room. It hit the opposing wall and broke into shards. He slowly sank to his knees, his blackened hooves pressed over his face and staining his fur.
279.
“You are an absolute asshole.”
Milae slowly swirled the meager amount of ale left in his glass, staring at it as it moved and caught the light. He set it down and let his chin rest on top of his folded arms, his eyes dull and staring at nothing. The alpaca half-breed next to him stared at him in stunned anger. The humans around them were accepting of their presence for the time being, but there were side glares and murmurings. Hoofers. Sucklings. Rats.
“Am I?” he droned. He knew that he was.
“You are the worst,” Duri pressed. She had no intention of staying quiet. “If that were me, I would thump you and dump your ass for the rest of eternity.”
“He should.”
“He’s going to, if you don’t do something about it.” Her hoof hit the bar and startled him into an upright position.
“But…”
“Butts are for shitting.” She grabbed him by the front of his cloak and yanked him forward, and he stared at her in shock. “You’re gonna do this to him and then you’re gonna mope off doing something else because you’re afraid of him? Own up to it. Do something about it. You’re Yun fucking Milae. You’re an uptight asshole, but you’re not helpless. Do something.”
“I told you to keep it down,” the bartender growled, putting an arm on the counter, and Duri ignored him. She shook Milae by the scruff of his clothes.
“Do something,” she repeated angrily. Milae stared her in the eye. They were almost the same color as Dario’s. “If you’re telling the truth, and you can’t do anything for me, do something for him. But don’t make him a knick-knack on a shelf.” The bouncer grabbed her shoulder and she tried to keep a hold of Milae for as long as she could. “You’re a team! Act like one!!”
Milae felt someone else yanking him away from her, and his heart sank as he realized their time was up. Duri was already furiously fighting against the bouncer, and even threw a solid punch at his gut. The humans around them started shouting. He didn’t need to see the results. He left the timeline.
300.
Milae stood in the middle of his looms. The result of centuries of careful study, dedication, pain and death, memorialized around him in millions of yards of colorful string. In his right hand was a burning torch.
He looked at the thick braid that represented the Golden Timeline. His home. He looked at the string where he knew Dario now existed. He took a shuddering breath, and pulled his hood up. First things first.
Without another thought, he hurled the torch at the loom, and the fire immediately spread across the threads and they began charring, splitting and melting. The room started to fill with smoke. But he was gone before the torch’s handle rattled against the ground.
Category:BOTGD 2
Category:Events
Category:Act I
Category:Yun Milae