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08-23-2014, 11:49 AM
en natt så kall och månen den var klar
A pause as heavy as the glaciers.
She looked up at his words—not up at him, no, but at the stars, and for all that it mattered.. he could as well be them; cold, distant, insignificant. He had stepped back from life to simply become its observer, a spectator at the sidelines, someone who had forgotten how to breathe and never had learned how to love.
So he stood there with his barely beating heart, looking at his firstborn daughter, who looked at the cold stars, and he wondered if it was a cycle that would never end, a circle that would never close; if he looked aside, would she look at him?
Would they ever look at one another, and think something of warmth? Of joy? It hadn't been in his blood back then, all cold politics and schemes, no time to show the little girl he loved just how much she meant, somewhere, in the deep, dim, dark corners of his bestial heart...
And she's grown up the spitting image of him, just as cold, just as wounded, fangs bared and breath as icy as the winter. She spoke to the stars, and Mauja heaved the faintest of sighs, sad eyes drifting a little lower and black-rimmed ears resting back. Sorrow came easily to him. Always had.
"You were always important to me," he responded in a low voice, barely louder than a whisper but with the cold, seeping strength of his soul—the way he had been their leader, holding their attention yet never raising his voice. It rocked, as steady as the mountains, but was light all the same; a bit steadier, now, and his gaze traveled back to her face, to her eyes. The stars reflected beautifully in them, and he wondered what drove her to look to them for composure; could she not stand the sight of him, or was she afraid of what looking upon him would do to her? He was no stranger to having his mind undone simply by a glance, though the tide of his own emotions was calming—they would never cease their motion, rocking in against the shore, but something in him resigned itself to the long, hard road of winning her back. It made it a little easier, made his throat not feel so tight, but the ache in his heart no lesser.
"And you always will be."
[ @[Snö]. ]
She looked up at his words—not up at him, no, but at the stars, and for all that it mattered.. he could as well be them; cold, distant, insignificant. He had stepped back from life to simply become its observer, a spectator at the sidelines, someone who had forgotten how to breathe and never had learned how to love.
So he stood there with his barely beating heart, looking at his firstborn daughter, who looked at the cold stars, and he wondered if it was a cycle that would never end, a circle that would never close; if he looked aside, would she look at him?
Would they ever look at one another, and think something of warmth? Of joy? It hadn't been in his blood back then, all cold politics and schemes, no time to show the little girl he loved just how much she meant, somewhere, in the deep, dim, dark corners of his bestial heart...
And she's grown up the spitting image of him, just as cold, just as wounded, fangs bared and breath as icy as the winter. She spoke to the stars, and Mauja heaved the faintest of sighs, sad eyes drifting a little lower and black-rimmed ears resting back. Sorrow came easily to him. Always had.
"You were always important to me," he responded in a low voice, barely louder than a whisper but with the cold, seeping strength of his soul—the way he had been their leader, holding their attention yet never raising his voice. It rocked, as steady as the mountains, but was light all the same; a bit steadier, now, and his gaze traveled back to her face, to her eyes. The stars reflected beautifully in them, and he wondered what drove her to look to them for composure; could she not stand the sight of him, or was she afraid of what looking upon him would do to her? He was no stranger to having his mind undone simply by a glance, though the tide of his own emotions was calming—they would never cease their motion, rocking in against the shore, but something in him resigned itself to the long, hard road of winning her back. It made it a little easier, made his throat not feel so tight, but the ache in his heart no lesser.
"And you always will be."
[ @[Snö]. ]
Se dem brinna över verkan se dem dansa framför bål
Se dem mässa inför satan se dem smida sina stål
Se dem mässa inför satan se dem smida sina stål
