[P] know that i'm breaking to pieces - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: [P] know that i'm breaking to pieces (/showthread.php?tid=25777) |
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know that i'm breaking to pieces - Sikeax - 11-19-2016 into the sea, you and me all these years, and no one heard i love you, let's go Names on a list, each one worse than the next. Expectations fill up the spaces in her head, check off the boxes in what she must prepare herself for in what is coming. They dwindle as the filled spaces alert her in what is to come. Fewer and fewer names make up the list til it becomes barely anything. Valdis. Volterra. Cera. Tyrath. Bellanaris? She questions if her daughter is young enough to feel shame in her mother’s failure, or if she’ll understand that her mother is leaving like a coward, tired, broken, realizing that no matter how facades are made to look, someone born hated is always hated. Because that’s what members of outcast bands are, right? Hated? Funny, how she had the strength She wonders if he’ll even want to see her face again after this. The idea of his burns a hole in her heart, urges her to pull her cloak of shame further around herself until she can burrow into it so deep that nothing will pull her free. She does it because she has to make herself strong again, prove to him that she is not going to be weak when he had given her something to build herself with(and failed with), to see if he’ll ever want to look at her again. But what importance does his existence have to her other than a once giver of seed? A man who didn’t want the child she forced upon him? Nonetheless, she can always hide behind the excuse that Hobgoblin wanted to see Vérzés. Distaste hums in his throat from his perch, nestled in the branches of the Dragon’s Blood tree where she, the failed Sultana, paces relentlessly. Yellow eyes pass judgement without a care of how much of it she can hear. “Weakling. Skullface no want. You fail Skullface. Skullface hate. You leave, no take.” “I know.” “We leave now?” A shrug of the shoulders answer him with mute words. “Best.” She can’t deny herself the truth when it is all that surrounds her at this point, but at the same time, she can’t leave herself without the feeling of his hatred, the acknowledgement that he hates her, the end to something that barely even held a beginning. OOC: screaming hobgoblin is in his serval form and chilling out in the branches of the Dragon's Blood tree because that's totally something servals do. but don't ask me i'm not an expert @Volterra RE: know that i'm breaking to pieces - Volterra - 11-20-2016
@Sikeax RE: know that i'm breaking to pieces - Sikeax - 11-28-2016 into the sea, you and me all these years, and no one heard i love you, let's go He comes to her, or more correctly appears in her life like he has since the beginning of all of this, wearing the burdens of her failed leadership, his loyalty that she probably doesn’t deserve but in the end, cherishes. She can’t lie that she’s surprised to see him despite the plans brewing within the confines of her skull to visit him, to pick up the pieces in what is left of what she now sees as Hell before finally breaking her chains to the desert. Hobgoblin flutters only internally at the sight of his only true friend, rising up in his shoulders and spine with the curling of his tail as a soft chirp chitters out of his lips, one far different in comparison to the one that he had made in the past to the dragon. Happiness warms him like the fire in a lighter in a snowstorm. He cannot overpower Sikeax’s sorrows, but he can escape, even if it’s for a short amount of time. Shame begs her to retreat at his company, but she’s succumbed enough times within the recent moons, and Volterra is not one that can easily take advantage of her again. But at the same time, she can’t bring herself to lie to him. She can’t bring herself to lie to anyone, because when has she in the past hidden the truth for the sake of pride? Hobgoblin would shun her if not for the circumstances and the presence of the crimson dragon. He cannot even spare her his attention, closing her out in the dark for whatever pleasures he gets out of the company of something that he once sought control over. Ghosts cloud her blue skies, dimmed by bitterness. Discomfort ridicules her brain in ways that it hasn’t in years, taking her back to when her father had sworn himself to her only for a short amount of time, to his abandonment, of the fear of her home. She feels like a child beneath his exterior, heart aching from shame because how could she bring him into this mess, asking him to discard his hopes and dreams, his future for her failure? He had been kind and warm to her in his own unique way in their last private meeting, and now she feels he’s become nothing more than a statue, built of obsidian and marble with rubies for eyes. All stone and far too cold. The spaces above her eyes are desecrated by wrinkles. Every portion of her body whispers out the silent pain of her mistakes, the slouch in her posture, the stillness in her bones, the fading stench of sea salt and the thinness of her winter coat. For good measure, sadness attaches weights to her ears so that they hang like the branches of weeping willows. "Volterra.” His name rolls off her lips like the wind in the vastness of the ocean: empty. His kindness, or whatever it is residing in that question, tempts her to turn and yell because is it not obvious how she is exactly? Is the despair in her not written on her pale, sea-torn coat with black ink, the pain swallowing up the life in her eyes? Out of her and into him, Hobgoblin pours a spitting hiss in Volterra’s direction, not out of his personal need(he has little care, if not any, for the Indomitable’s existence), but for Sikeax’s hard-needed release. Bitterness never gets the better of her. “Terrible, if you haven’t noticed.” Can’t you see that? Didn’t you before? “Large body, small brain.” She almost wants to smile at the thought. @Volterra RE: know that i'm breaking to pieces - Volterra - 12-03-2016
@Sikeax RE: know that i'm breaking to pieces - Sikeax - 01-07-2017 into the sea, you and me all these years, and no one heard i love you, let's go She feels like the north when winter is there, reminded of the freezing sensation of ice sinking into her somewhere deep, aching, burdened by something that she cannot completely put her finger on. But she’s never known the fleeing of summer from winter up there, so Sikeax cannot say this how she feels. Volterra brings her a lukewarm cup of comfort that tastes like black coffee, bitter, melting ice cubes in it so that it will be useless soon enough by the use of his expression. Hobgoblin is steadily losing his patience with the situation. “Leave. No worth. No important.” I promise you it’s important. “Why?” Harsh words shaping demands and accusations are becoming her downfall, the panic switch in the dark that just happens to be flipped when she needs it not to be. Hobgoblin knows her like he knows himself, possibly more than she knows herself. The throat within her head that leads to a mouth that voices her thoughts closes up with a knot. Internally, nestled into their bond and the closeness they share, Hobgoblin’s weight moves into his shoulder blades as he leans forward, waiting for a response that she can’t dare to fathom. And to his surprise, to anyone’s surprise, she is the one to cut him away from her. The impact from him sends him spiraling, caught off guard and frantically looking for a grip on control as the darkness of the quiet from Sikeax settles in. It is not as if they have given up everything they have at the push of a button, the choice of a thought; Hobgoblin can still feel her: the shame of her actions, the submission she fears and the dominance she desires but fears leaping for, the worry of losing something that he can’t understand the importance in because what importance does Volterra have anymore? His resources have been used and wasted, and Sikeax no longer has a throne that requires a knight to guard(to which he notes that the stallion failed in, furthering the thought), and the fear of the future, but that is no stranger to either. It is more of that she feels dull when she is typically as vibrant as the Tallsun heat, that her thoughts sound blurred and feel as if their rhythm as changed. Externally, he can only process it in a visible recoil, drawing his mass into itself as the suns in his eyes dulled in the wake of the storm. When he collects enough of himself to pay any attention to his friend, the full weight of her shame becomes his own. It etches its way over him in the sinking of his body, pulling into himself as his head hangs low. A sudden shake of the head. ‘Not meant like that.’ He wishes to say, but has no way to get it out there. Meanwhile, Sikeax cannot pull herself away from Volterra. He fills up in the vastness in her eyesight, takes away the pain of the desert, even if just for a short amount of time. She almost feels like he’s in there when he sighs, softening, warming her up but nonetheless making her feel worse when she remembers that her intentions to him were to be hateful when possibly Volterra’s true intentions for her was to be her friend. I wish we could stop this. The words stop at her lips. All of her pain pours into her facial features like she’s held them for a thousand years, letting it go in a soft, summer rainfall that has no thunder or lightning, just the quiet, calming sound of rain touching everything that it can manage to find. Nothing will keep her safe from reality. Hobgoblin rolls back into himself further, so far from Sikeax that all of this is like a movie that he can't do anything to stop from continuing, but can add his two pieces to the actors. "Sorry," he offers, with no way to tell whether or not it is genuine or out of his own discomfort of having to witness this. She swallows her emotions because for the time being, they don't mean anything. "I gave up." The truth is harder to admit than it is to accept. It drains the life out of her in knowing that Volterra was willing to give up his freedom to help her, to be her friend, to be there for her when she needed someone most regardless of his own ambitions. Accepting that she did that to him nearly puts her heart in the grave, probably right beside their friendship. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't be the queen you said you were there for, that you pledged your freedom for. People I considered my family for my entire life turned on me because I can't stop death, and then their God" Nothing is felt in how at any other time she might have claimed the Sun God as her God, but the Lord of Light has fallen from her graces, just as she imagines she has him. "made me take the place of the man they thought I killed. I can't change that. I don't think anyone can." One long, desperate gasp for air as her chest heaves forward and she clutches her sadness in her tired, dirty hands. "Volterra, they hated me. Right now I'm sure everyone here does, and I can't blame them." Any eye contact held between the two of them is broken as she turns her head away from him, staring off into the distance so she won't have to see how his view of her changes. There's a lot of things that she can live with, but the idea of him hating her is the one that destroys her the most. As far as she can see, he's the last one here worth trusting. "The chance came to get out of there, and I took it, and I think I'm going to take it as far as it will let me take it. I don't feel like I failed them." But that doesn't stop me from feeling like I failed you. "I did what I thought was best for me, and for once, I feel like that was the right thing to do." And there shouldn't be a thing wrong with that, shouldn't there? Hobgoblin shuffles in her thoughts, unable to add his opinion in because Sikeax and him are such different beings that he can't begin to tell her that selfishness is the only true way to live, that she'd live better off if she just thought of herself, but that would also mean the risk of her sacrificing her cares for him, and well, he cannot simply begin to risk that. OOC: i literally wrote this over two very different sessions so if it doesn't flow perfectly THAT'S WHY. @Volterra RE: know that i'm breaking to pieces - Volterra - 01-19-2017
@Sikeax |