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02-19-2017, 04:40 AM
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SIKEAX the sea soul — She has so much hate, and none of it feels right. It burns a blackish hole in her and digs deep, so much that Hobgoblin is choking on the ash in his lungs and wheezing on the fumes of her destruction. It halts him in his tracks. It takes the world out from underneath his cemented feet and whirls it out into the future without him, and while he’s left reeling, it goes and moves on without him because she’s walking away and he’s sitting stupid in a pond, melting in the humidity and she’s so far and - SNAP! He leaps into his own form of a breakneck sprint and explodes into nothingness for seconds on end until his body floats back to him in a cloud. All of this occurs in a blink of an eye, but to him, it’s an eternity, a thousand years spent as nothing and all without Sikeax. “Please.” The word is dirty. A cringe exhumes itself from the aftermath of it and only shows up mentally, a ghost making up his face as he stares blankly into the spot that she has walked into, having already disappeared. ‘Come back. Don’t go. I can’t stand being without you.’ nearly follows suit, but instead finds itself sitting beside him in the storm, sighing, broken, beaten down because none of this is making sense. Is all of this because he thought they were better than this? Did they think of each as better than this? Neither draws up an answer, and both of them, in their own personal, private ways, know that it’s not worth thinking up one. One quick look into her eyes and reality is back. The joints in his legs are stiff and the water is soaking into his dampened body, and he finds himself nearly shivering despite how warm the weather is. Another long drag on the cigarette of their bond and he’s back into something new. She barely even takes note, but it's not like she's supposed to these days. When speaking in terms of emotions, everything has morphed into the hardened agony of marble. Not a moment is spared in hiding how she feels either, staring at the first of the pair with rough features, a tight line drawing lips that quietly yell a father’s hard disappointment, taunt brows over sapphires. Her horn’s glow brings out the rigidness of the lines. The only movement to be found is when the wind blows with enough strength to move her hair, and how her eyes trail the gradual reach for something under their wing. The threats fall flat. Fear doesn’t brew up in her belly and send her anxiety hailing. No, Sikeax has nothing to fear here except for herself. “Neither am I.” climbs its way out of her lips when the tired palm of her words meets the edge of her lips. Hobgoblin is slow in making his arrival. He comes from the trees in silence, antlered head turning with slow grace as he takes in the sight. For a brief moment, he feels the void take him in. His mind lets him go limp and the only sound is the distance in Sikeax’s heartbeat in his head but not in his ears, and the storm typically raging in the waters of his emotions has died. He’s not sure why it happens, but the sensation is comforting while it lasts, and he sinks into the depths of the darkness until rock bottom is met and her hand is diving down to grab him, pulling him up. He resurfaces to gasp in the air of aged anger, but the air is stiff and sour. There’s a dull taste in it. Ampere doesn’t stir up anything for her. She lets herself sit in the same boat that Hobgoblin is sitting in currently, upset for how he has to suffer just like her and how she wishes that for once she could even dissociate alone. Singularity isn’t something she knows anymore. Unlike her last group meeting, there aren’t multiple faces to be worn. Ampere doesn’t make her jump for joy, or draw out the eternal, deep longing rage that screams REVENGE like Hobgoblin might have wanted if things were different, but those times feel like they’ve left the universe entirely. They’re tired, and rest is a pitiful request on their shared, cracked lips, longing for it as if it was water in the desert. Areli isn’t making her suspicious. She doesn’t even care that her name is out there at the moment because fuck it, who’s to say it matters anymore? All that she wants to do is stare with a blank expression that possibly tints itself with pleas of loneliness and sips at sadness. Her anger is done, having ran her to her emotional grave now. “Ampere.” Her name is flat-lining on her voice but there’s no final scream of revival(of what?) before death. Worry rises up but simply out of the fear of being rude. Here she and Ampere clearly know each other, but their company is left to stand the probable awkwardness of being left out of the mix. So comes her first real sign of life. She lets herself dip into the lukewarm waters of embarrassment with the falling of her ears, the borderline rough tuck of the corner of her lip as she thinks for a second. What would you call her? A mental shrug of the shoulder, and she’s fucked. “And you are?” The pipes in her throat rise one note higher, having climbed another by the end of her sentence. Hobgoblin briefly shuffles in her tension, and she nearly joins him out of habit, but has little energy to put forward, instead choosing to waste it in hopes of finding a way out. OOC: Hobgoblin's forms go from leopard seal, serval, wendigo. "Talk." can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be? |
you were angels,
so much more than everything
:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed
