He'd rather die than go up in smoke, go up as white light – he'd rather die like *this,* red in tooth and claw. Ronon could break his neck right now, and he'd be grateful he hadn't died in a fucking meadow of wildflowers somewhere, that he died with his mouth sore and his heart pounding and every inch of him awake.
Wow -- great intensity that fits so perfectly after Epiphany. I'm loving the angst.
no subject
Wow -- great intensity that fits so perfectly after Epiphany. I'm loving the angst.