[b]It's A Wonderful Life: Ku Rudo Mountains 12:47 PM[/b] [i]A lone man scales one of the many mountains behind the Dojo, leaving the smoking ruins behind him. The others might not have noted the date, or maybe they didn't care enough. Mostly, he believed that in the midst of such carnage and wanton destruction, they were either trying to survive, or were celebrating quietly and in their own way. His hands are tucked into his coat pockets as he trudges through the snow, which slowly builds as a light storm comes from the southeast. Strangely, the man does not shiver as he scales the mountain, despite wearing only combat boots, jeans, a blue t-shirt, and a leather jacket. There is also no puff of exhalation, no miniature cloud formed from the heat of his breath. His eyes looked to the peak of the mountain, but held that glazed appearance of one looking beyond their surrounding's, back into their memory. His right hand pulled out of his pocket in a fist, clenching something fiercely, as though it were as precious as his own life. His fist opened until his fingers were in a hooked sort of shape. Out of his palm falls what looks like a necklace, a crucifix at the head, and beads leading behind it some before splitting to form a circle of neatly spaced beads. He raises his hand with the beaded sacramental, now looped around his crooked fingers to his head. Then, speaking against the wind so that the sound produced only a mutter, he made the sign of a Cross, dropping his hand first to his midsection, then bringing it up and to the left to meet his left shoulder, before ending by bringing it across to his right shoulder. He finished his sign as he reached the summit, coming out to a flat top covered in new snow. He walked to the center, before falling to his knees, his left hand coming out to join his right in front of his chest. And thus, Fenrir, the Wolf of God, began to pray.[/i] "[b]God...thank You. I thank You for the people I've known.[/b]" [u]A small bar with a round table, five figures of varying sizes and shapes seated around laughing and speaking loudly. A large wall, patrolled by comparatively small men in groups of four, huddled around a fire and sharing in their silent companionship. A single figure atop a broken hill, the very earth bleeding and casting the figure into shadow. A barren expanse, filled with monsters and mayhem, the ebbs and flows of a massive battle. Various obscure figures fight together in a circle. A quiet plain on either side of an endless road, a single man, the same man? He holds on his back a sleeping youth, determinedly pacing on. A massive army moving on a single ship, beset by an equal force. In the midst of the opposition, a single figure cuts a swath for those behind them. A small town, various images of a life lived quietly, in service to others. A life lived well, ended without a death, but with a departure in the night. A snowy graveyard, two figures speaking quietly in front of a large memorial, etched with hundreds of names of fallen soldiers. Two old soldiers seated on rocks in a forest clearing, sharing stories as they clean their blades amidst a snowy day. A clash of blades, two figures fighting, one in the guise of some warped angel, the other wreathed in white flames.[/u] "[b]I thank You for the trials I have faced, that I may know You better.[/b]" [u]The table, empty. The wall, broken. The earth, shattered. The circle, broken. The child, dead. The army, scattered. The town, destitute. The graveyard, desecrated. The soldiers, fighting. The figures, unrelenting.[/u] "[b]I thank You for the opportunities You have given me.[/b]" [u]A broken man, seated atop an ashen hill, beset on all sides by monsters and demons. The man rises, meeting their challenge with brutal cruelty and unrelenting fury. No quarter drawn, no mercy given. He succumbs to his madness, fighting anything that approaches, wanting only to burn it all to the ground. The same man, walking with purpose over a frozen lake, no light shines, yet still he can be seen. His sword is weathered, missing chunks and dulled. His armor is bloodied, torn and rent. His face is wild, yet the face of one who has rediscovered some cherished item. His hair is matted and greasy, clumped shaggily. A single ray of light drops as from the top to the bottom of a very long, large hole. It drops on the man, circling him, warming him. Flames issue from his eyes suddenly, from his mouth, too. Soon, they spout from every orifice of the upper part of his body, white fire erupting, steadily tinging to blue flames. He looks skyward, laughing of pure joy.[/u] "[b]I thank You for the forgiveness of my many mistakes.[/b]" [u]A burning city, screams and cries emanating from the survivors and refugees. Lining the side are charred bodies, burning buildings, and slaughtered avengers. Walking the streets is a single man, red flame originating from him as he walks on through the rubble and the death. He is challenged many times, but all are repelled, or killed. He bears the same armor as the figure before, but his expression is one of neutral apathy, his face as uncaring as the flames that billowed from his eyes.[/u] "[b]Mostly, Lord, I thank You for the gift of You and Your mercy in granting us eternal Salvation. Thank you, Lord Christ. And, though I know it is not truly the same date, for what I do know, Happy Birthday, Lord.[/b]" [i]He kneels for a time, praying first a Rosary of the Joyful Mysteries, than a Divine Mercy Chaplet. When he finishes with his spoken prayer, he kneels amidst the storm, quietly listening as adoring his God. He remains there, silently sharing in the love between he and his Lord. As such, he does not hear the newcomer to his summit, continuing to quietly adore.[/i] [spoiler]Open. Also would not mind hearing thoughts on the post.[/spoiler]