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[PRIVATE] we could carry each other

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#1
03-22-2017, 11:55 AM

 

sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:




I’d thought I could go back, back to where I had stacked rocks on top of rocks on top of their bodies, until there was a mound that hid the blood from my eye, but not my mind.  I don’t know how long Amalrik stayed, or when, exactly, he carried off the metal wolf that had always moved alongside my father, but I don’t suppose that matters, just as it does not really matter when I’d left, either.
 
I hadn’t been back.  That was the important truth.
 
My buck reassures me with a nudge from his damp, dark nose; it leaves a glossy mark on the smooth summer skin of my shoulder, where a small, white blip exists, a remnant of a past, and a girl, I thought less and less of.  She, too, would have told me to go on, to reclaim my peace of mind from this place, to find, once again, solace and comfort beneath the dancing lights through the colored glass.  From her, it wouldn’t be selfish, as it is with Duir, tired of feeling my melancholy through the binding which makes us one.  Xynia would simply want me to happy.
 
Yet, I think of her, and the lines of her face that I’d once recalled so poignantly are blurred; her mane is still pale as moonlight, her eyes like stars swept down from above, but her smile is gone to the ebb of memory, and her laughter cast to the winds of time.  The light that would have reached in, and cupped my own, shallow flame in its embrace is gone from the mental picture which I procure, and there is no strength left to Xynia’s love for me, or my love for her.
 
Maybe it was never love at all, then; merely a dream, warm and lazy, through which I’d spent a summer swimming.  A dream that had suddenly become a loop of death; from the dead bodies on the field of war which had taken my naivety to the truth of what blood smelled like, to the loss of my mother’s nurturing, to the culling of my father by his own contraptions, and the swift, silent death of my Uncle, as if the scythe had struck them both in tandem.
 
It leaves me feeling reckless, and small.  Duir does not understand, because he can only borrow the loss.  It isn’t his.  He cannot feel it, not like he would if he had been older, had known them as I had.  It’s not strength that allows him to urge me onward, like he seems to think it is.
 
It’s coldness.
 
And I won’t be moved.

[ OOC:  Midafternoon at the edges of the wood, near the Thistle Meadow or western border. ]

sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


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Messages In This Thread
we could carry each other - by Rikyn - 03-22-2017, 11:55 AM
RE: we could carry each other - by Gyda - 03-28-2017, 07:01 PM
RE: we could carry each other - by Rikyn - 04-06-2017, 11:31 AM

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