#poor bastard...

Searching the floor blindly with his hands he comes across the texture of dried blood upon smooth stone with the occasional piece of rubble. There was no stickiness left despite the amount he must have bled: how long had he been lying here? 

The scene was still all too fresh in his mind; in his panic he had rushed to this temple, one of the last to be spared the flames of the Wu Yong people’s wrath, and he had stood before his divine statue pleading and begging for them to come to reason. He could still help them if they would just let him try, but there was not one person who would worship a god who had failed.

Another agonizing breath and the blurry scene before him is once more lit up with blinding white stars. The struggle to focus is immensely painful in and of itself, but what else could he do? 

He pushes himself to his knees and involuntarily spews a string of curses as a dozen sharp pains shoot through his being. It doesn’t matter. He has to save them. He’s come this far ... even if they will not worship him, even if he is mocked, despised as a god and as a crown prince there is no one else left.

No one else...

It’s his driving thought as he rips free the first of the blades left in his body.

How worried his friends must be to not see him return from the shrine - more curses as he pulls free another blade, and another - they must be frantically trying to curb the anger of the masses.

The common people must be forgiven for their blindness... he’s a god and their disappointment is only natural. 

The crown prince manages to push himself to a kneel and the next hours are spent with his head bowed towards the rubble of his own divine statue, almost as if he were a lone figure mourning it. Every few minutes he gathers the will to endure ripping free another blade -- how merciful were those who did not leave a weapon dug into what had certainly been little more than a corpse at that point -- until every last one is scattered on the floor at his sides.

!!!

@tldsurvival IT HAPPENED

...bitch, he's probably watching. I think he'd rather hear it from you himself then watch you talk about it on TV with a load of people watching...poor bastard.

I just wanna hug him. I mean, I always wanna hug him...but this is a sympathy hug.