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03-25-2016, 04:44 PM
Watching him wither was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. She denied his healing, for she didn't need it -- she had never needed it, not this time. She saw the flames die on his wings, as though smothered by her refusal, as though somehow her health was denying him something else entirely. She was lost, confused, aching for some way to put her thoughts and feelings into words, some way to make him understand. She had never wanted to leave! She had never wanted any of this to happen! But it was useless: she could see his attention wandering, could see the way that the vague semblance of peace between them was drifting away, rolling out with the now-distant waves to be lost at sea. Astraeus came then, landing protectively on her withers, looking the stallion and his two companions over with emotionless, slitted eyes. He had nothing to offer to his bonded; unlike Mara, he had no inkling of his bonded's former mate's intentions, no ideas to share or advice to give. Sohalia had never needed his assistance in piecing together the puzzle, only in remaining afloat after it had caused her to drown. All the zephyr could do was offer his love and adoration, his support as he began to feel her fall apart under the stallion's dull gaze. She felt responsible for him, for whatever had caused his fire to die out. She imagined that she had broken him, tainted his vivacity and left him to fill the void. She imagined that maybe he had felt the same way that she would have, had their positions been reversed. Astraeus leaned over to preen her mane gently, offering her comfort in the gentle silence that he brought. Silence stretched, too, between the two pegasi, but this was an uncomfortable and awkward silence, one that the Transcended sought desperately to fill. She searched, fruitlessly, for anything to say, for anything to make it better -- her lips parted, but no words came out. She had no reassurances, nothing that she could offer him to make this better, to make anything easier. He wouldn't even look at her, and somehow that was worse than the gap slowly widening between them, pushing them further and further apart. When he did look at her, it did little to settle her growing anxiety. There was something sad and lost in his gaze that nearly broke her heart, threatened to shatter her newly-repaired soul into a million tiny pieces. No, she wanted to whisper against his skin, to keep him from falling into the same despair that she had found herself in time and again. She had never wanted him, never meant to hurt him, and she was suddenly drowning in the possibility that she had done just that -- that he had not, in fact, moved on, but had only ever sought to fill her place in his heart. Hadn't she done the same thing? Right or wrong, her thoughts were immediately halted by the caress of his voice. It had been so long since she had heard the shortened version of her name on his lips, so long since anything about her had been spoken with that kind of adoration -- pain twisted across her face, tears springing to her eyes. (Why did he always manage to make her cry? No, it wasn't his fault, it was hers, she was in tears because of her own mistakes and their effect on him.) "I'm sorry, okay?" Her voice burst forth of its own volition. "I just -- Ivezho told me -- you were supposed to be happier -- I didn't want to keep hurting you -- I thought it would be better -- I -- I --" She was babbling, hysterical, barely managing to keep her tears in check. Though her cheeks her dry, her voice was alive with emotion, offering all of the pain and sadness that she had harbored for so long for him to see. She couldn't possibly make sense, trying as she was to tell him that she still loved him, she still missed him, she had tried to do what was best for him, that it had all been a mistake, that she hadn't even known that she had disappeared in the first place until it was all too late -- "I didn't know -- I thought -- new family -- Ivezho -- gone -- so long --" On and on it went. She couldn't stop, couldn't make herself just shut up. He couldn't possibly want to hear this, couldn't possibly forgive her, couldn't possibly want her -- What had she been thinking? He couldn't still love her. What she wanted didn't matter. She'd been an idiot to come here. She was just hurting him more-- "Talk talk talk." |
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@Gaucho
