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10-21-2016, 09:51 AM
I can hear my train comin'
"I…"
It was not betrayal, at least not on Ranjiri’s behalf.
She was still here, in the same world she always had been. Though she is now wreathed in the green, bountiful smell of the Earth’s realm, rather than the Sun’s warm, sunlit deserts, Helovia had always been her home. He stares at her, one word stammered through emotions that rise, fall, coil, and buck with his dearest friend’s words, and he finds that the only one who has done anything wrong, is himself.
Dragomir could not blame her for seeking love and acceptance. He could not hold ill will against the new curvature of her body, or the man sure to have made it so, for things that he had been caused with his sudden, wordless departure. No…
It was a betrayal. Of himself, and the weary part of him that craves to be at peace with anyone else.
Would he always be alone?
Was that why he had grown up with only his parents for company in the first place, to learn how to be at peace with this unfulfilled feeling?
Why was it then, that he kept wanting…
"My mother died," he rumbles, while the mourning gallery wails within his heart, black tissues fluttering. It had been odd to feel the sudden absence of her in his chest, but to say it out loud… it hurt. Suddenly, all the tears he’s managed to stoically keep hidden away begin to well, lingering as unshed glimmers in the corners of his crystal blue eyes. "She was very, very ill, when Szello and Vihar found me. She…"
He’d told her of his siblings, of course, during their time together, as he’d told her of the dragon island, and his childhood alone, with only the dragons for playmates. He’d told her of his mother’s prettiness, and her gentle heart, and he’d even told her of his father’s proud strength (though he had neglected to mention the dark faith and devotion to Nieque embedded in the Steadfast’s heart). He’d said enough of everything about his past for her to know that, when his much beloved sister had told him of his family in need, all those miles away, he had been consumed by a need to be with them.
He finds, though, that when it comes to discussing his Mother as she had been in her last moments, he cannot tell Ranjiri anything. Looking at her with a certain pleading expression, as if she could just pull the words from him, and leave the hurt they inspire buried deep within, where he has tried to hide it.
"She was dying, from the inside," his brows fold down, hard over his tear-stricken gaze, his mind fumbling over too many wrong words for the right ones, "she looked as she always has, just… tired, and frail. Like a flower that has been properly dried in the sun."
Or the petals in his pouches… our petals… and how their fragrance is still pure, though they are merely dust. He was afraid to touch his mother then, as she died in the meadow he’d been foaled in, afraid as he was now, to talk about what he really wanted to with Ranjiri.
Who? Is he here, so I can remain far away? Away where the sight of you and this family you have found, made, cannot hurt me, with how very badly I want it to be mine?
A dark line traces slowly down his cheek, another rolling into down on the opposite, as well. He looks, again, to his hooves.
"So you live here now?" he questions after some time, looking back up with a smile on his face, the dark tracks of his tears mocking the flimsy expression he uses to hide behind, "your dad would like that, I think."
[ OOC: drowns in the emotions omgggg ]
It was not betrayal, at least not on Ranjiri’s behalf.
She was still here, in the same world she always had been. Though she is now wreathed in the green, bountiful smell of the Earth’s realm, rather than the Sun’s warm, sunlit deserts, Helovia had always been her home. He stares at her, one word stammered through emotions that rise, fall, coil, and buck with his dearest friend’s words, and he finds that the only one who has done anything wrong, is himself.
Dragomir could not blame her for seeking love and acceptance. He could not hold ill will against the new curvature of her body, or the man sure to have made it so, for things that he had been caused with his sudden, wordless departure. No…
It was a betrayal. Of himself, and the weary part of him that craves to be at peace with anyone else.
Would he always be alone?
Was that why he had grown up with only his parents for company in the first place, to learn how to be at peace with this unfulfilled feeling?
Why was it then, that he kept wanting…
"My mother died," he rumbles, while the mourning gallery wails within his heart, black tissues fluttering. It had been odd to feel the sudden absence of her in his chest, but to say it out loud… it hurt. Suddenly, all the tears he’s managed to stoically keep hidden away begin to well, lingering as unshed glimmers in the corners of his crystal blue eyes. "She was very, very ill, when Szello and Vihar found me. She…"
He’d told her of his siblings, of course, during their time together, as he’d told her of the dragon island, and his childhood alone, with only the dragons for playmates. He’d told her of his mother’s prettiness, and her gentle heart, and he’d even told her of his father’s proud strength (though he had neglected to mention the dark faith and devotion to Nieque embedded in the Steadfast’s heart). He’d said enough of everything about his past for her to know that, when his much beloved sister had told him of his family in need, all those miles away, he had been consumed by a need to be with them.
He finds, though, that when it comes to discussing his Mother as she had been in her last moments, he cannot tell Ranjiri anything. Looking at her with a certain pleading expression, as if she could just pull the words from him, and leave the hurt they inspire buried deep within, where he has tried to hide it.
"She was dying, from the inside," his brows fold down, hard over his tear-stricken gaze, his mind fumbling over too many wrong words for the right ones, "she looked as she always has, just… tired, and frail. Like a flower that has been properly dried in the sun."
Or the petals in his pouches… our petals… and how their fragrance is still pure, though they are merely dust. He was afraid to touch his mother then, as she died in the meadow he’d been foaled in, afraid as he was now, to talk about what he really wanted to with Ranjiri.
Who? Is he here, so I can remain far away? Away where the sight of you and this family you have found, made, cannot hurt me, with how very badly I want it to be mine?
A dark line traces slowly down his cheek, another rolling into down on the opposite, as well. He looks, again, to his hooves.
"So you live here now?" he questions after some time, looking back up with a smile on his face, the dark tracks of his tears mocking the flimsy expression he uses to hide behind, "your dad would like that, I think."
[ OOC: drowns in the emotions omgggg ]
Now I'm runnin' for my life
memorablemoose & larfsalot @deviantart
dinpattern.com
dinpattern.com
@Ranjiri
Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
