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Nymeria
- the raven casts the longest shadow -
It was time to talk.
She remembered the last time she had been with him; most clearly, the desire written across his face, the hunger in his mirror eyes—and her stomach, clenching tighter and tighter. For him she’d cried, and took him in her [metaphorical] hands, and made a fool of him without him ever knowing. He’d pressed against her in the night, and she against him; but even the warmth of their chaste union could not undo her misgivings, her cruelty.
It didn’t matter. What she’d chosen to do was a choice she’d stand by. As he grew stronger, so would she, even if it would not be in the same way. When his muscles and veins waxed and his need for wits diminished, she grew the confines of her mind and expanded on her own unique set of abilities.
At some point you will need true friends, not lies. No—Nymeria did have friends, just… not ones she saw often. (Thranduil, for example.)
The Hidden Falls wouldn’t serve as a suitable meeting place. There would be too many ears around, even if they wouldn’t be listening. As the sun rose, snow fell, and Nymeria began to walk. Away—away—to her first home, her first love, the architecture of kaleidoscopic colors and gossamer drapes that drifted in the breeze.
Sunlight glittered on the drifts of snow, thickening with each passing days. The air—brisk but not cold—smelled strangely of flowers despite the winter.
Nymeria felt alone. Lilómiel, bonded so closely to her, was only a distant voice as he sought out her brother. And instead of him filling her up she was but half, an emptied vessel, her skin stretched too thin and her heart beating too fast (come back soon Lil. I can’t survive this feeling long.) Maybe if he went too far away she’d collapse in on herself—maybe she and him would die.
Her hooves clicked on stone.
She waited in the Rotunda.
She remembered the last time she had been with him; most clearly, the desire written across his face, the hunger in his mirror eyes—and her stomach, clenching tighter and tighter. For him she’d cried, and took him in her [metaphorical] hands, and made a fool of him without him ever knowing. He’d pressed against her in the night, and she against him; but even the warmth of their chaste union could not undo her misgivings, her cruelty.
It didn’t matter. What she’d chosen to do was a choice she’d stand by. As he grew stronger, so would she, even if it would not be in the same way. When his muscles and veins waxed and his need for wits diminished, she grew the confines of her mind and expanded on her own unique set of abilities.
At some point you will need true friends, not lies. No—Nymeria did have friends, just… not ones she saw often. (Thranduil, for example.)
The Hidden Falls wouldn’t serve as a suitable meeting place. There would be too many ears around, even if they wouldn’t be listening. As the sun rose, snow fell, and Nymeria began to walk. Away—away—to her first home, her first love, the architecture of kaleidoscopic colors and gossamer drapes that drifted in the breeze.
Sunlight glittered on the drifts of snow, thickening with each passing days. The air—brisk but not cold—smelled strangely of flowers despite the winter.
Nymeria felt alone. Lilómiel, bonded so closely to her, was only a distant voice as he sought out her brother. And instead of him filling her up she was but half, an emptied vessel, her skin stretched too thin and her heart beating too fast (come back soon Lil. I can’t survive this feeling long.) Maybe if he went too far away she’d collapse in on herself—maybe she and him would die.
Her hooves clicked on stone.
She waited in the Rotunda.
table by neo ♥
@Volterra
OOC: Short and sweet to start with!
Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions
