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OOC: tying off a loose end.
Lorax
No - such a simple, short word, yet carrying so much power. Two letters, able to carry much more than their simple phonetical values. Depending on intonation, their meaning could be diverse. Empires had fallen, and others rose because of this one word.
It was strange that Lorax should think this, so close to leaving behind this world. As the remainder of his blood slowly dripped from his open wounds, soaked up by the ground, he meditated on the many possible meanings of this word. In his case the meaning was multiple. No, he did not win the fight. No, he had not been a coward, and had fought bravely against overwhelming odds. No, he wasn't going to be able to succeed in the mission granted by the Dreamweaver. No, he wasn't going to live.
It had been nine and forty years ago, when he first saw the light in this world. He had always been fascinated by the moon and stars, even though at heart he had been closer to the scorching hotness of the sun. He painstakingly opened his eyes for the last time. The thin sickle of the moon smiled at him. It was a fitting death. He, who had lived most of his life under the sun, taking his power from the realm of fire, was bidden farewell by the moon, she who never shared the sky with the sun.
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