Apocrypha: Rose of the Garden

Trying to theorize a little on everyone's most hated god of war, ebonarm. Most people just want to see the back of him but I'm determined to find him a place.

There is a rose in my garden. It sits ever still, and never grows. On the edge, by the pale white wall, it's roots seep through my stone, around the edge. It's thorns remain ever vigilant, watchful of my fruits.

And on the wall of my garden in a single corner that the light shines on through the silver trees, sits the petals of my rose. They do not age, or wilt, but at times they often fall and die. But there can never be less than one.

The rose is of my garden, but it is not from my garden. It grew from I, as I turmoiled with my own existence. From my tears and fertilization it grew, and it wrapped itself around my garden, which I did not see until it showed me. It guards my nature, and completes it.

I am a rose. I am the one that surrounds his garden, and balances his nature. Look at his garden, and see that which I protect from him. For if he were to touch the nature that he holds so dear it may wilt and die. I protect it for him, from him.

Look at my thorns. Many grow from my stem and they are his tears, sharpened ash. They are that which grew from the seeds of war, and they will cut my foes as I walk. They are his petals.

Look at my petals. See how they overlap. They are his honor, his connection which repels him from within. Watch how they cut him and cast him away from himself. They are his thorns.

I do not walk as a rose, but as skin dressed in blood. I am the petal covered in thorns plucked from an enemy once felled. I bring balance in war, and leave myself as I wander off.

What is war, if not a rose? The will to face thorns to reach petals. The drive to face pain for beauty.

I am a rose in their garden, balance in his nature.

I am a rose in their garden, balance in his nature.