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05-05-2015, 04:25 PM
i am the vanguard of your destruction
It's a fragile moment—delicate spun glass held in the hands of an unwary child, simply counting the breaths until those careless fingers would let it slip.. and fall.. and something would come spilling out, like smoke, like blood, a cloud to seep into lungs and settle like a fine film of dust, slowly choking the life out of you. He is waiting, for that moment, breath held in against her silence. He is waiting to slip through the hands just barely holding on to him, and shatter on the cold, unforgiving floor.
But when he hits the ground, it isn't darkness that seeps from his cracked veins. It's starlight.
Shimmering, cold, and pure.
Glacia.
She was talking about Glacia—and making him feel like a whore in the process. It was that "thanks" comment, pulling a small snort of protest from his nostrils. You didn't say thanks for sex, it just.. felt.. cheap. Yeah. Cheap. But it was hardly the time to butt in and protest, because she was stumbling over herself and her words, like some kind of nervous tick making her unable to just spit it out. Maybe it would've been a kindness if he had just cut her short and said I know, but.. it wasn't that he enjoyed watching her like this, words dribbling inelegantly from her maw, it was just that—that he was so relieved it wasn't anything dangerous or hurtful or.. that it was just Glacia.
Plus, he'd kind of forgotten she didn't know that he knew. Glacia must've refrained from telling her mother she'd come across him in the snows, and.. he'd hardly come visiting since then.
Just another smack in the face.
He bit his lip for a moment, heart listening more than his ears as her words kept on tumbling out, sticking in her throat but somehow still making it out. Just saying yea, I know, felt so shallow, but.. what else could he say? Thoughtfully he rubbed his jaw over her spine, allowing her to settle closer. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was glad to not think of Psyche right now. That wound was still too raw.. and if he went there, he'd just think of Snö, and, of, other things, of all the things he wished he'd done different or better but never could change. And all the things he wished he had said, but she could never hear, now that she was dead.
"I know," he finally said after a moment, voice soft and quiet. "I met her a while back. I'm surprised she didn't tell you." The words still sounded a little thick, but the tears had dried on his lashes, and his gaze was as keen as ever as he glanced at her. "She truly is something."
You should be proud.
We should be proud.
[ @[Sialia] ]
But when he hits the ground, it isn't darkness that seeps from his cracked veins. It's starlight.
Shimmering, cold, and pure.
Glacia.
She was talking about Glacia—and making him feel like a whore in the process. It was that "thanks" comment, pulling a small snort of protest from his nostrils. You didn't say thanks for sex, it just.. felt.. cheap. Yeah. Cheap. But it was hardly the time to butt in and protest, because she was stumbling over herself and her words, like some kind of nervous tick making her unable to just spit it out. Maybe it would've been a kindness if he had just cut her short and said I know, but.. it wasn't that he enjoyed watching her like this, words dribbling inelegantly from her maw, it was just that—that he was so relieved it wasn't anything dangerous or hurtful or.. that it was just Glacia.
Plus, he'd kind of forgotten she didn't know that he knew. Glacia must've refrained from telling her mother she'd come across him in the snows, and.. he'd hardly come visiting since then.
Just another smack in the face.
He bit his lip for a moment, heart listening more than his ears as her words kept on tumbling out, sticking in her throat but somehow still making it out. Just saying yea, I know, felt so shallow, but.. what else could he say? Thoughtfully he rubbed his jaw over her spine, allowing her to settle closer. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was glad to not think of Psyche right now. That wound was still too raw.. and if he went there, he'd just think of Snö, and, of, other things, of all the things he wished he'd done different or better but never could change. And all the things he wished he had said, but she could never hear, now that she was dead.
"I know," he finally said after a moment, voice soft and quiet. "I met her a while back. I'm surprised she didn't tell you." The words still sounded a little thick, but the tears had dried on his lashes, and his gaze was as keen as ever as he glanced at her. "She truly is something."
You should be proud.
We should be proud.
[ @[Sialia] ]
