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03-23-2015, 12:08 PM
i am the vanguard of your destruction
No don't come here oh shit oh shit oh shit—
But she did, almost as if she could hear the overwhelming pull of his thoughts, but instead of being repulsed, she was drawn in by the panicked buzz going through his mind. No no no shit shit shit—
But there she was, all sleek, black fur and sweat, slender and powerful, a panther of a mare and his heart was definitely skipping beats. There she was.. two white socks, a white blaze, a blue-and-black wound horn and eyes as blue as the sea...
Blue.
There was too much blue.
And his heart was painfully conjuring eyes of fire, the eyes of a hawk.
But those eyes had gone out; they were dull and dead, ashes, along with the rest of her. She was dead. "Liam..." she was saying as he spat out the last of the bark, and his ears fell halfway back, not wanting to listen. She was who she was; she couldn't help that. It wasn't her fault that she was almost the spitting image of someone he had lost—someone he had loved, and lost.
Was that why it had happened, that other time on the beach? The idea was repulsive, it tasted vile and foul, of everything he loathed, but, shamefully, he thought there was at least some kernel of truth in it. He lowered his gaze, and glanced aside, aware of her own eyes burning holes in his skin, widening the gaps in his armor. He didn't deserve—or want, really—her attention. He didn't want to feel the heat radiating off her, or the smell of mare and sweat intermingled so flawlessly, so pleasantly unpleasant.
"Alleshia," he spits the name out, like something toxic. But at the same time he didn't want to hurt her—but he did, some part of him was angry that she wasn't her—he needed to stop this and remain in the real world. A world of blue eyes. "You're my issue." His voice was rough, a growl lurking beneath it, frustrations of every kind turning his words to sandpaper—and honest to god, he hadn't meant to make it sound like that but guess what?
Somehow he had, anyway.
[ @[Sialia] ]
But she did, almost as if she could hear the overwhelming pull of his thoughts, but instead of being repulsed, she was drawn in by the panicked buzz going through his mind. No no no shit shit shit—
But there she was, all sleek, black fur and sweat, slender and powerful, a panther of a mare and his heart was definitely skipping beats. There she was.. two white socks, a white blaze, a blue-and-black wound horn and eyes as blue as the sea...
Blue.
There was too much blue.
And his heart was painfully conjuring eyes of fire, the eyes of a hawk.
But those eyes had gone out; they were dull and dead, ashes, along with the rest of her. She was dead. "Liam..." she was saying as he spat out the last of the bark, and his ears fell halfway back, not wanting to listen. She was who she was; she couldn't help that. It wasn't her fault that she was almost the spitting image of someone he had lost—someone he had loved, and lost.
Was that why it had happened, that other time on the beach? The idea was repulsive, it tasted vile and foul, of everything he loathed, but, shamefully, he thought there was at least some kernel of truth in it. He lowered his gaze, and glanced aside, aware of her own eyes burning holes in his skin, widening the gaps in his armor. He didn't deserve—or want, really—her attention. He didn't want to feel the heat radiating off her, or the smell of mare and sweat intermingled so flawlessly, so pleasantly unpleasant.
"Alleshia," he spits the name out, like something toxic. But at the same time he didn't want to hurt her—but he did, some part of him was angry that she wasn't her—he needed to stop this and remain in the real world. A world of blue eyes. "You're my issue." His voice was rough, a growl lurking beneath it, frustrations of every kind turning his words to sandpaper—and honest to god, he hadn't meant to make it sound like that but guess what?
Somehow he had, anyway.
[ @[Sialia] ]
