| Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Jen |
image by deadair @ flickr.com</style>
round all the pieces up, but they just don't fit the same.</style>
He awaits her reply eagerly. He ignored his companion’s unbidden jealousy. He wants her to know how he feels, and he wants to know how she feels, too.
And he is foolish to think he is right, and foolish to think she will agree. But still, the childish part in him believes in his words. He doesn’t realize their callousness, especially when spoken to her, so abandoned, so unloved for so long.
Knox is trying to offer love, when he doesn’t even know what love is.
She speaks to him of abandonment and he opens his eyes, he pulls away. She tells him he is wrong and his heart begins to break.
He stands, slowly, patiently.
He is hurting, from a deeper part than he understands.
”What will prove it, then? What will get rid of this pain, Aylin? For so long I’ve been lost in it. Ever since we left Helovia I’ve been filled with this hurt more powerful than anything else I’ve ever felt. And I’ve been hurting for you, I think,” he says slowly, carefully. His chest feels tight. Manhattan has turned away.
”I don’t know what to do anymore. This is all I can think of. But you make me hurt, and I thought... “ Knox looks down, down into the pit of fire and past his jet black hooves all covered in feathers, all clogged with the debris of Frostfall. ”I thought if I knew I loved you, it would go away. And I thought, maybe, what you said about having a family… I thought that was you trying to rid me of that pain.”
The stallion exhales slowly, trying to breathe as his eyes brim with the same tears he first shed before Aylin, so many years ago. He thought, he thought, he thought. But he is always thinking wrong, or of things he does not know. He doesn’t know what the pain is because he doesn’t know what love is. He doesn’t know the responsibility of having a child because he doesn’t know that to have a child is to have love more infinite than one can control.
He doesn’t know anything, anymore, and for once he is willing to admit it. He just needs her guidance; he just needs her love.
___
She doesn’t know what light is, a voice comes. Knox doesn’t know whose it is, anymore.
He is wondering if she knows what love is, too. How can she, if she thinks she loves him?
Knox has loved so little. He loves Manhattan, he thinks. He once, for a flicker of a moment, loved his brother. In that second when Archibald was dead, an image before his misinformed figure of the end, Knox loved him.
Now he loves no one. He waits for the day Archibald truly passes. He waits for the moment when Manhattan gives up on him, freeing him even of that burden of loving her. He is waiting, always waiting--or someone, some ancestor, is. Knox doesn’t know anymore.
“You don’t see me,” Knox says with a thick scowl that hangs unevenly off of Dovev’s square and roman features. Somewhere at the edges of his eyes, silver dances and smoke begins to spread. “If you did, you’d never think I was a light.”
The blindness leaps forth, striking out towards Aylin with the cruelest of intentions. If she can only hear him, hear this other voice of an ancestor she doesn’t know--if she can only feel him, feel him hurting her, will she understand then?
If she can’t see that bridle that hangs across his features, will she forget that any part of the stallion who breathes heavy upon her features, the one who walks forward now menacingly, is Knox?
—
knox</style>
& manhattan</style> |
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
