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05-31-2014, 04:10 AM
en natt så kall och månen den var klar
The world keeps on shattering.
He found himself desperately wishing Illynx away—wishing her to the other side of the blasted world, for all her golden arrogance and smug enjoyment of his misery to go up in flames and leave him alone with whatever few pieces of his life he still had left. Darkness crept up on him, from every side, shadowy tendrils gently stroking his limbs before taking a hold, and climbing up his back, his neck, to his ears and eyes and mouth—
He was nearly choking, on nothing. On nothing but emotion, a rising tide of panic, anger, hurt, and frustration; it rose higher and higher, swallowing up every drop of oxygen trying to make it down his throat, and yet, for all of it, it didn't show. His dark nostrils widened, trying to gulp down more air to clear the black flood out of his lungs, and his ears hung sort of limply from his head, flopping out sideways as if composing them into any sort of pose required too much energy and thought. And Illynx, riding some sort of self-justified high, was practically gloating over the pit he'd dug himself his entire life. Standing there, far up above on the rim with a golden corona of light against the distant sky her words echoed down. As if it took a genius to realize he was drowning, and the only thing dragging him down was himself. As if he didn't know.
His eyes blackened uncharacteristically as she went on, the angry throb of his pulse demanding he make her shut up—but he curbed the impulse, crushed it under his hoof just like Sielu's pitiful looking-over-herself crushed his heart. This always seemed to happen, in some way or another; and this was just an uncommonly clear representation of what he did to those he claimed to love.
Fuck you, Illynx, his mind hissed, but somehow his grit teeth didn't let the words out; but he wanted to say them, to fling them at her face and batter himself against her until all his energy ran out and he fell weeping to the wet forest floor.
But that wouldn't help anyone. Least of all Sielu.
"It's alright," he began to murmur, relieved she was okay, unable to deal with Illynx's self-righteous tirade at the moment. Because the only thing he knew to answer it with was, Do you usually spend every waking moment in the presence of those you love wishing you were dead, so this endless cycle of failure and heartache would end?
Sielu fell back down into the mud, Mauja's dark muzzle trailing through the smoke over her sodden neck, breathing warmth against her cold, cold skin. "Try again," he whispered against her. "Illynx and I are here to help you, we need you to get up, to get you back to the Basin—do you remember Lena?"
And all the while the narrow strip of vision in his world grew thinner and thinner, the roaring, black void threatening to break him entirely.
He found himself desperately wishing Illynx away—wishing her to the other side of the blasted world, for all her golden arrogance and smug enjoyment of his misery to go up in flames and leave him alone with whatever few pieces of his life he still had left. Darkness crept up on him, from every side, shadowy tendrils gently stroking his limbs before taking a hold, and climbing up his back, his neck, to his ears and eyes and mouth—
He was nearly choking, on nothing. On nothing but emotion, a rising tide of panic, anger, hurt, and frustration; it rose higher and higher, swallowing up every drop of oxygen trying to make it down his throat, and yet, for all of it, it didn't show. His dark nostrils widened, trying to gulp down more air to clear the black flood out of his lungs, and his ears hung sort of limply from his head, flopping out sideways as if composing them into any sort of pose required too much energy and thought. And Illynx, riding some sort of self-justified high, was practically gloating over the pit he'd dug himself his entire life. Standing there, far up above on the rim with a golden corona of light against the distant sky her words echoed down. As if it took a genius to realize he was drowning, and the only thing dragging him down was himself. As if he didn't know.
His eyes blackened uncharacteristically as she went on, the angry throb of his pulse demanding he make her shut up—but he curbed the impulse, crushed it under his hoof just like Sielu's pitiful looking-over-herself crushed his heart. This always seemed to happen, in some way or another; and this was just an uncommonly clear representation of what he did to those he claimed to love.
Fuck you, Illynx, his mind hissed, but somehow his grit teeth didn't let the words out; but he wanted to say them, to fling them at her face and batter himself against her until all his energy ran out and he fell weeping to the wet forest floor.
But that wouldn't help anyone. Least of all Sielu.
"It's alright," he began to murmur, relieved she was okay, unable to deal with Illynx's self-righteous tirade at the moment. Because the only thing he knew to answer it with was, Do you usually spend every waking moment in the presence of those you love wishing you were dead, so this endless cycle of failure and heartache would end?
Sielu fell back down into the mud, Mauja's dark muzzle trailing through the smoke over her sodden neck, breathing warmth against her cold, cold skin. "Try again," he whispered against her. "Illynx and I are here to help you, we need you to get up, to get you back to the Basin—do you remember Lena?"
And all the while the narrow strip of vision in his world grew thinner and thinner, the roaring, black void threatening to break him entirely.
Se dem brinna över verkan se dem dansa framför bål
Se dem mässa inför satan se dem smida sina stål
Se dem mässa inför satan se dem smida sina stål
