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11-11-2016, 07:58 PM
The prince drifts.
He is vaguely aware of Myrrine's voice as his violet eye flutters shut. He distantly realizes that he feels... cold. But for the most part, his mind simply floats away, drifting in the ethereal realm between life and whatever comes next. It is nice here, truth be told, not nearly as dark as he might have imagined. Everything seems to be enveloped in a warm fog. It cocoons him, lightening his burdens and easing his pain. And so as a shape emerges, he is able to smile (sight in his right eye seems to have been restored), and offer a bow. "Hello, m'lady," he greets dream-Myrrine fondly, reaching to touch noses with her. She lingers, and he watches her with only the mildest flicker of interest in his gaze. He is content here, and even the presence of the mother of his child can do little to arouse him.
She sighs, eventually. It seems simultaneously as though years have gone by and as though no time has passed. She begins to walk, and he falls into step beside her. He might have asked where they are going, but following her is the most natural thing in the world. He does not question it. The fog begins to clear before them, shifting and crawling to form walls around them. The wander down this hallway and that, twisting and turning through the maze of his mind until they arrive at a door of sorts. "Look," dream-Myrrine whispers in his ear; the door disappears, and a scene unfolds.
The tiny mare is terrified, that much he can see plainly. He watches himself attempt to console her, tucking his wings in as though to make them as small as possible. When they part ways, she seems a little less frightened. He cannot remember her name, but the faintest flicker of something buds in his chest, reaching for the mare before falling back to embers. The scene disappears, and the prince keeps walking. At the next door, he hears dream-Myrrine's voice again. "Remember," she commands. In the room, he is declaring his love for the tiny mare. She looks at him with adoration before snuggling under his wing.
"Resplendence," he whispers, and then he remembers.
In the real world, the prince breathes his last, a smile on his marred face.
"more words."
@Myrrine
He is vaguely aware of Myrrine's voice as his violet eye flutters shut. He distantly realizes that he feels... cold. But for the most part, his mind simply floats away, drifting in the ethereal realm between life and whatever comes next. It is nice here, truth be told, not nearly as dark as he might have imagined. Everything seems to be enveloped in a warm fog. It cocoons him, lightening his burdens and easing his pain. And so as a shape emerges, he is able to smile (sight in his right eye seems to have been restored), and offer a bow. "Hello, m'lady," he greets dream-Myrrine fondly, reaching to touch noses with her. She lingers, and he watches her with only the mildest flicker of interest in his gaze. He is content here, and even the presence of the mother of his child can do little to arouse him.
She sighs, eventually. It seems simultaneously as though years have gone by and as though no time has passed. She begins to walk, and he falls into step beside her. He might have asked where they are going, but following her is the most natural thing in the world. He does not question it. The fog begins to clear before them, shifting and crawling to form walls around them. The wander down this hallway and that, twisting and turning through the maze of his mind until they arrive at a door of sorts. "Look," dream-Myrrine whispers in his ear; the door disappears, and a scene unfolds.
The tiny mare is terrified, that much he can see plainly. He watches himself attempt to console her, tucking his wings in as though to make them as small as possible. When they part ways, she seems a little less frightened. He cannot remember her name, but the faintest flicker of something buds in his chest, reaching for the mare before falling back to embers. The scene disappears, and the prince keeps walking. At the next door, he hears dream-Myrrine's voice again. "Remember," she commands. In the room, he is declaring his love for the tiny mare. She looks at him with adoration before snuggling under his wing.
"Resplendence," he whispers, and then he remembers.
In the real world, the prince breathes his last, a smile on his marred face.
"more words."
@Myrrine
Quilyan
counting on the night for a beautiful day;
subtlepatterns.com | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart
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Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
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Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
