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12-17-2015, 02:26 AM
Ivezho
"Rhoa," it is a breath on the breeze, a suggestion, a passing sentiment, a forgotten memory. A brief and precious moment, where one brother sees his twin and wants so desperately to reach out, to run and jump and play like they did when they were so much smaller and younger, without these years of time and leagues of distance stretched between them. Without the awkwardness of his silence and avoidance, without the unavoidable journey he followed his mother on, without the feelings of sheer betrayal and hurt and confusion caused by something so stupid like not knowing what the fuck to say when you saw him again.
What was there to say? Everything - and yet, nothing at all. What did brothers have to say to each other?
Brothers with a past like they had, surely had plenty to say to each other.
I love you, he wanted to say, yet the thought of it terrified him. I hate that we are this way, he wanted to proclaim, but the fear of having to shoulder so much of the responsibility as to why they were this way frightened him. I am weak, hopeless, nothing without you, he wanted to shake his brother until he understood just how much he meant to him. Rhoa, his brother, his twin, they were meant to be together always, but they weren't - could they fix this?
Ivezho was hoping, praying (to who, he didn't know anymore), betting that they could. Perhaps the odds would be against him. Perhaps he was a fool walking into a pit of hungry, ravenous snakes, as deadly as his father's companion.
Or maybe he was finally heading towards somewhere right.
"I fucked up, brother." His voice was rough, deep, his chords having adjusted since testosterone flooded his veins. Bright, viridian eyes sought out the gaze of his brother's teal gaze, as he pleaded to his twin to at least acknowledge his existence. Long, limber legs walked his lanky body near him, the sound of the bloody waterfall crashed somewhere in the distance - but he only saw the stallion before him, and the fracture kinship that separated them.
@Rhoa I SAW AN OPEN RHOA THREAD I POUNCED.
What was there to say? Everything - and yet, nothing at all. What did brothers have to say to each other?
Brothers with a past like they had, surely had plenty to say to each other.
I love you, he wanted to say, yet the thought of it terrified him. I hate that we are this way, he wanted to proclaim, but the fear of having to shoulder so much of the responsibility as to why they were this way frightened him. I am weak, hopeless, nothing without you, he wanted to shake his brother until he understood just how much he meant to him. Rhoa, his brother, his twin, they were meant to be together always, but they weren't - could they fix this?
Ivezho was hoping, praying (to who, he didn't know anymore), betting that they could. Perhaps the odds would be against him. Perhaps he was a fool walking into a pit of hungry, ravenous snakes, as deadly as his father's companion.
Or maybe he was finally heading towards somewhere right.
"I fucked up, brother." His voice was rough, deep, his chords having adjusted since testosterone flooded his veins. Bright, viridian eyes sought out the gaze of his brother's teal gaze, as he pleaded to his twin to at least acknowledge his existence. Long, limber legs walked his lanky body near him, the sound of the bloody waterfall crashed somewhere in the distance - but he only saw the stallion before him, and the fracture kinship that separated them.
@Rhoa I SAW AN OPEN RHOA THREAD I POUNCED.
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