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11-08-2015, 06:54 AM
somebody shine a light
I'm frozen by the fear in me
I'm frozen by the fear in me
"Uh-OH," and he was nestled in the warm curve of her throat, pulse rocketing against his neck, a life-rhythm thundered out in the darkness of his world. He could feel it with each passing moment, eyes pressed shut as the warm beat pushed and pushed and pushed against him.
In a world where nothing made sense, it was a comfort to feel the pulse of another living creature.
And each time she drew breath he could feel it too, chest swelling against his shoulder, hear the sound of it slipping in through her nostrils and quivering down her throat—
Her heartbeat grounded him, and her breathing calmed him, until it didn't hitch quite so much each time the air slipped into his lungs. "I’m sorry," she was saying, apologizing for something she had had nothing to do with—for a moment his eyes slipped open, as he realized he had no idea who he was stealing comfort from, and all that he saw was an unfamiliar light gray shoulder, a touch of gold, the flow of a pale mane. His eyes closed again. Did it matter who she was? Did it matter what she looked like, or where she came from? He knew her pulse—he knew the sound of her life, the essence of her being, the warm core from which everything flowed. What else did he need to know, but the comfort of her skin? "I’m so sorry." The tide of tears had receded, and a moment after her words he sighed—a sound of defeat, of the world ending, something so deep and profound it could've made the very earth quiver in compassion.
Aviya was dead. Snö was dead. d'Artagnan had left.
(—Torasin, Psyche, Kou, Tolio—)
Everyone was dead or gone, and if they weren't yet, they would be. And one day, he would be too, leaving all those he loved and cared for behind, more than he already had.
He envied those who had the strength to keep loving. Those who had the strength to go on. To face life, despite knowing this: to learn to love anew, even when their hearts were torn apart and making a bleeding mess all over a stranger.
Mauja drew in a rugged breath, though it was calmer now. Very gently he lowered his head, disentangling himself from her neck, from the quiet backdrop of her pulse—moving away from the steadiness of that rhythm, and out into a cold world which had been shaken in its foundation. He knew well enough that being alive was a risk, but.. not even when Glacia had nearly drowned had he thought he would actually lose a child to death before dying himself.
"I'm sorry too," he said quietly, voice thick, and opened his pale eyes again. They were reddened from crying, framed by dark lashes messed up by tears—and he looked at the creature with the warm heartbeat, the unfortunate stranger who had happened to wander upon him. She had some traces of draft blood, sturdy, gray, wearing some golden jewelry. The one in her horn was the cause of the bell-like clicking. Slowly, he pulled his gaze up from her gilt hooves to her eyes. "I really am. Sorry." And then, his eyes slid away again, to a darkening horizon that had no right to be so beautiful, and it took all he had to hold back a fresh flood of tears.
[ @Dacianna ]
In a world where nothing made sense, it was a comfort to feel the pulse of another living creature.
And each time she drew breath he could feel it too, chest swelling against his shoulder, hear the sound of it slipping in through her nostrils and quivering down her throat—
Her heartbeat grounded him, and her breathing calmed him, until it didn't hitch quite so much each time the air slipped into his lungs. "I’m sorry," she was saying, apologizing for something she had had nothing to do with—for a moment his eyes slipped open, as he realized he had no idea who he was stealing comfort from, and all that he saw was an unfamiliar light gray shoulder, a touch of gold, the flow of a pale mane. His eyes closed again. Did it matter who she was? Did it matter what she looked like, or where she came from? He knew her pulse—he knew the sound of her life, the essence of her being, the warm core from which everything flowed. What else did he need to know, but the comfort of her skin? "I’m so sorry." The tide of tears had receded, and a moment after her words he sighed—a sound of defeat, of the world ending, something so deep and profound it could've made the very earth quiver in compassion.
Aviya was dead. Snö was dead. d'Artagnan had left.
(—Torasin, Psyche, Kou, Tolio—)
Everyone was dead or gone, and if they weren't yet, they would be. And one day, he would be too, leaving all those he loved and cared for behind, more than he already had.
He envied those who had the strength to keep loving. Those who had the strength to go on. To face life, despite knowing this: to learn to love anew, even when their hearts were torn apart and making a bleeding mess all over a stranger.
Mauja drew in a rugged breath, though it was calmer now. Very gently he lowered his head, disentangling himself from her neck, from the quiet backdrop of her pulse—moving away from the steadiness of that rhythm, and out into a cold world which had been shaken in its foundation. He knew well enough that being alive was a risk, but.. not even when Glacia had nearly drowned had he thought he would actually lose a child to death before dying himself.
"I'm sorry too," he said quietly, voice thick, and opened his pale eyes again. They were reddened from crying, framed by dark lashes messed up by tears—and he looked at the creature with the warm heartbeat, the unfortunate stranger who had happened to wander upon him. She had some traces of draft blood, sturdy, gray, wearing some golden jewelry. The one in her horn was the cause of the bell-like clicking. Slowly, he pulled his gaze up from her gilt hooves to her eyes. "I really am. Sorry." And then, his eyes slid away again, to a darkening horizon that had no right to be so beautiful, and it took all he had to hold back a fresh flood of tears.
[ @Dacianna ]
somebody make me feel alive
and shatter me
and shatter me
