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02-09-2015, 10:14 AM
och jag växte upp snabbt, från min barndom var det allt—jag föddes redan slagen
då tänker du tyst och skriker högt, memorerar hela jävla monologen som skrevs för din inre röst,
He's seen this before. White hind-legs flashing over dark earth, her small shape bulleting through distant horizons, fleeing, fleeing, fleeing, trying to outpace both him and the world. The dual images burned in his mind, reality overlapping with memory.
He had seen this before, but that time, he had lost her.
This time, he was determined not to.
But how do you catch a shadow?
Frosted hooves struck the ground, again and again, heart laboring in his chest and sides heaving—there was only so much he could do, keep running, keep chasing, his winged eyes soaring high above and tracking her mad flight. How had it even come to this? What had happened? He knew nothing of her—not even her name—but something, something must've happened.. something that tore the ground from out under her, fractured her very world, and went deeper into her heart than any poison could.
He had no understanding, no guesses, no nothing, only his empathy, and it drove him forward even when his lungs burned.
Down, Irma whispered, her voice a touch of winter ghosting through his skull; Diego voiced a silent agreement, and wings angled down for a quiet descent, braving the cramped quarters of the underground.
So much had happened, and so quickly; his frosted hooves slid on the rocky path as he checked his pace and ducked into the darkness. The revelation, a god-child dead.. Psyche dead.. somewhere down in these very caves they had shared an odd moment of peace, a sliver of glass from a long-forgotten artwork nestled in his heart, its sharp edges pricking him each time it beat. What they had been on the road of becoming.. was lost.
He blamed the wind for his weeping this time as he plunged into the magma-warm darkness, his subtly wavering shadow draped over the walls as his body painted itself in whichever hue it was presented with. This way, her words said, the lightest touch on his mind as he barreled down a corridor, chasing ghosts and memories. Underneath the ringing of his own echoes he thought he could hear something..
A sharp cry reverberated both through bond and world as Irma swerved, sharply, nearly colliding with Diego in her haste to get away as the room erupted in lightning and exploding crystal. Mauja's ears fell flat against his neck. What was she doing?
He didn't know how long it took for him to reach her—a minute? Ten?—but suddenly he was there, in the halls of peacefully glowing crystal, their many hues reflecting in his white coat.. but the calm was broken, in shattered pieces and dust, flashes of too-bright light and the sound of things breaking and hooves ringing on a hard, unforgiving floor.
The flustered owls settled on his back in their customary order, worried eyes darting this way and that, but he barely felt their claws resting against his skin. He saw only the dark-light shape of her, crashing this way and that—he saw her through his lashes, eyes narrowed against the sharp bursts of light.
He didn't think she would hurt him—if she knew he was there. So he kept his distance, watching her in silence, heart heavy in his chest. Someone—maybe the Earth-child that had fallen to save them all—must've meant much to her. Mauja swallowed. He knew what it felt like, to lose.
He knew the feeling of helpless rage, the overwhelming sense of grief, loss in its purest form: a darkness expanding in your heart, in your thoughts, in the vacant space they should've occupied by your side.
He knew it and watching her in the throes of its grip was.. more than he wanted to bear, but those blasts kept him away, until finally it seemed to calm. Their part of the cavern lay in ruins, all sharp edges and dust, wicked spires left standing where there had been walls. Mauja's gaze traveled around once, before it went back to her.
Ljós he had called her, and she had been his for that day, but this was not the work of the light—grief was not evil, but it was dark, and he thought it was what had moved her. And calling her Loudmouth now would be too insensitive for him to stomach.
"Elding," he finally called in a lilting and soft voice, moving from his safe distance. He hadn't come all this way to abandon her now. He hadn't come all this way to let himself be turned away, either.
He had come all this way, to show her that he cared. That he was there. For her.
[ my post pales in comparison to yours. /cry ]
He had seen this before, but that time, he had lost her.
This time, he was determined not to.
But how do you catch a shadow?
Frosted hooves struck the ground, again and again, heart laboring in his chest and sides heaving—there was only so much he could do, keep running, keep chasing, his winged eyes soaring high above and tracking her mad flight. How had it even come to this? What had happened? He knew nothing of her—not even her name—but something, something must've happened.. something that tore the ground from out under her, fractured her very world, and went deeper into her heart than any poison could.
He had no understanding, no guesses, no nothing, only his empathy, and it drove him forward even when his lungs burned.
Down, Irma whispered, her voice a touch of winter ghosting through his skull; Diego voiced a silent agreement, and wings angled down for a quiet descent, braving the cramped quarters of the underground.
So much had happened, and so quickly; his frosted hooves slid on the rocky path as he checked his pace and ducked into the darkness. The revelation, a god-child dead.. Psyche dead.. somewhere down in these very caves they had shared an odd moment of peace, a sliver of glass from a long-forgotten artwork nestled in his heart, its sharp edges pricking him each time it beat. What they had been on the road of becoming.. was lost.
He blamed the wind for his weeping this time as he plunged into the magma-warm darkness, his subtly wavering shadow draped over the walls as his body painted itself in whichever hue it was presented with. This way, her words said, the lightest touch on his mind as he barreled down a corridor, chasing ghosts and memories. Underneath the ringing of his own echoes he thought he could hear something..
A sharp cry reverberated both through bond and world as Irma swerved, sharply, nearly colliding with Diego in her haste to get away as the room erupted in lightning and exploding crystal. Mauja's ears fell flat against his neck. What was she doing?
He didn't know how long it took for him to reach her—a minute? Ten?—but suddenly he was there, in the halls of peacefully glowing crystal, their many hues reflecting in his white coat.. but the calm was broken, in shattered pieces and dust, flashes of too-bright light and the sound of things breaking and hooves ringing on a hard, unforgiving floor.
The flustered owls settled on his back in their customary order, worried eyes darting this way and that, but he barely felt their claws resting against his skin. He saw only the dark-light shape of her, crashing this way and that—he saw her through his lashes, eyes narrowed against the sharp bursts of light.
He didn't think she would hurt him—if she knew he was there. So he kept his distance, watching her in silence, heart heavy in his chest. Someone—maybe the Earth-child that had fallen to save them all—must've meant much to her. Mauja swallowed. He knew what it felt like, to lose.
He knew the feeling of helpless rage, the overwhelming sense of grief, loss in its purest form: a darkness expanding in your heart, in your thoughts, in the vacant space they should've occupied by your side.
He knew it and watching her in the throes of its grip was.. more than he wanted to bear, but those blasts kept him away, until finally it seemed to calm. Their part of the cavern lay in ruins, all sharp edges and dust, wicked spires left standing where there had been walls. Mauja's gaze traveled around once, before it went back to her.
Ljós he had called her, and she had been his for that day, but this was not the work of the light—grief was not evil, but it was dark, and he thought it was what had moved her. And calling her Loudmouth now would be too insensitive for him to stomach.
"Elding," he finally called in a lilting and soft voice, moving from his safe distance. He hadn't come all this way to abandon her now. He hadn't come all this way to let himself be turned away, either.
He had come all this way, to show her that he cared. That he was there. For her.
[ my post pales in comparison to yours. /cry ]
du lät exakt som ismael.
