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12-29-2015, 09:34 PM
Ivezho
"Dragomir," the call came, loud and true, in a voice he knew, he recognised. It thrilled him to hear it, truly, for it had been so long, too long since he had spoken to her, played with her, raced and danced and frolicked with her. He remembered her smile, her laugh, her beautiful obsidian pelt, rimmed with gold and ivory, her simple existence. The memories of their meeting brought him joy during the time when Ivezho pulled away from society, from his family - in his memories he was the perfect friend, there to lend support when she needed it, there to laugh and cry with her. In his memories, or rather, his dreams, he had not been filled with the shame and guilt that had driven him to leave the lands they both called home. In his dreams, he was present, not absent, as his reality wrote him to be.
But it was not his name she called, not his memory she chased, but another's - there is always another, better, greater than me, always someone else -
"Sorry to disappoint," he spoke now, his tones the same, though perhaps with less of a playful jeer. They were friendly, they were open - they were also older, deeper, hardened from his self-inflicted solitude. Ivezho moved from somewhere behind the trees, his form easily trackable as his bodice glowed like an ember clinging to its last warm light. Only, his light never went out - he was a beacon, a glowstick. It was as if he held the Sun within his breast in place of a heart - it was a giant pain in the arse.
He rounded the corner with a small, shy, lop-sided smile on his lips, his gaze seeking out her crimson one, his crown held low as if expecting a blow upside the head from her gold-tipped wings. Had he done anything wrong? Not exactly, but he hadn't done much right either. He wondered if she ever thought of him - had she noticed his absence?
He could only assume No, because it wasn't as if she were coming here calling his name out now.
"Ready to explore?" he asked, hope causing his voice to hitch slightly. Ready to forgive me for being a boneheaded glowstick who doesn't know what's good for himself anymore?
@Ranjiri
But it was not his name she called, not his memory she chased, but another's - there is always another, better, greater than me, always someone else -
"Sorry to disappoint," he spoke now, his tones the same, though perhaps with less of a playful jeer. They were friendly, they were open - they were also older, deeper, hardened from his self-inflicted solitude. Ivezho moved from somewhere behind the trees, his form easily trackable as his bodice glowed like an ember clinging to its last warm light. Only, his light never went out - he was a beacon, a glowstick. It was as if he held the Sun within his breast in place of a heart - it was a giant pain in the arse.
He rounded the corner with a small, shy, lop-sided smile on his lips, his gaze seeking out her crimson one, his crown held low as if expecting a blow upside the head from her gold-tipped wings. Had he done anything wrong? Not exactly, but he hadn't done much right either. He wondered if she ever thought of him - had she noticed his absence?
He could only assume No, because it wasn't as if she were coming here calling his name out now.
"Ready to explore?" he asked, hope causing his voice to hitch slightly. Ready to forgive me for being a boneheaded glowstick who doesn't know what's good for himself anymore?
@Ranjiri
veerdesigns | larfsalot
on deviantart
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:
