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04-04-2016, 01:34 PM
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
It hung like that between them—heavy and filled with things unsaid, memories remembered, tears lacing the edges of their existence. His voice—presence—the bane of joy. He didn't need to see her to feel it, hear it, sorrow settling like snow upon them.
(Except it was already in him—)
It had its roots and teeth sunken deep, deep in his flesh, thin threads of poison leeching into his blood. Some days, as he felt his marble heart stumble in his chest, he wondered if he hadn't become stone (grief).
But he still bled, bright red blood instead of stale dust, so he figured he was still alive.
“Oh Mauja, I’m so sorry,” for what else could be said? What else could be done? His eyes closed, containing his many useless tears, and her muzzle pressed against his; sighing out white smoke he pressed back. I'm so sorry seemed to sum up his existence, and something in the darkness yawning in him frightened him—as if the stars would fall in his wake and darkness chase him as he ran for the mountains—the ground split open and he'd fall into sheets of golden light—
Those had been dreams; Lena was real, her muzzle soft against his as their breaths mingled for a moment. "I'm sorry too," he whispered, voice thicker than usual, but still oh so Mauja: light and gentle. "For everything." Pale eyes slipped open in the snowy darkness, slipped behind him, the way he had come. Irma came out of the darkness, but Diego remained behind with the thing he had found.
The glare of the sentinel was cold.
A threat.
Ulrik was a master at his craft. Run-down as it was it was still an imposing structure, looming against the black backdrop of the towering mountains, and standing there in their shadow, stealing a moment with Lena... He knew that he did not belong. Not anymore. He was a stranger here. Beyond those mountain walls lay only memories, of grief and death and ruin.
"I should go," he whispered, heart pounding too fast, too fast, and the sentinel seemed to whisper that he had outstayed his welcome; former master or not, he did not belong to the Basin anymore.
I should go, before I forget the way back.
The world suddenly seemed darker, colder, more unfriendly.
[ @Lena I'm sorry D: this was awful... ]
(Except it was already in him—)
It had its roots and teeth sunken deep, deep in his flesh, thin threads of poison leeching into his blood. Some days, as he felt his marble heart stumble in his chest, he wondered if he hadn't become stone (grief).
But he still bled, bright red blood instead of stale dust, so he figured he was still alive.
“Oh Mauja, I’m so sorry,” for what else could be said? What else could be done? His eyes closed, containing his many useless tears, and her muzzle pressed against his; sighing out white smoke he pressed back. I'm so sorry seemed to sum up his existence, and something in the darkness yawning in him frightened him—as if the stars would fall in his wake and darkness chase him as he ran for the mountains—the ground split open and he'd fall into sheets of golden light—
Those had been dreams; Lena was real, her muzzle soft against his as their breaths mingled for a moment. "I'm sorry too," he whispered, voice thicker than usual, but still oh so Mauja: light and gentle. "For everything." Pale eyes slipped open in the snowy darkness, slipped behind him, the way he had come. Irma came out of the darkness, but Diego remained behind with the thing he had found.
The glare of the sentinel was cold.
A threat.
Ulrik was a master at his craft. Run-down as it was it was still an imposing structure, looming against the black backdrop of the towering mountains, and standing there in their shadow, stealing a moment with Lena... He knew that he did not belong. Not anymore. He was a stranger here. Beyond those mountain walls lay only memories, of grief and death and ruin.
"I should go," he whispered, heart pounding too fast, too fast, and the sentinel seemed to whisper that he had outstayed his welcome; former master or not, he did not belong to the Basin anymore.
I should go, before I forget the way back.
The world suddenly seemed darker, colder, more unfriendly.
[ @Lena I'm sorry D: this was awful... ]
Mauja
the white queen
