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03-25-2015, 05:35 AM
i am the vanguard of your destruction
Psyche is dead.
Psyche was nothing but memory, and the vague notion that he could just.. go outside of Helovia and find her again seemed so dumb, like he hadn't even been aware he'd been thinking it but something in him had refused to accept that Psyche was ashes now.
Psyche was dead. He could scour the earth for her, but he would never find her, because he knew what she was, and where she rested. And that was that. The end of it. The end. There would be no more Dark Empress and Frostheart on adventure, no more of their seamless, flowing interaction. No more.. no more of anything, except tears.
And they had begun to fall freely, now.
Gods, he'd fucked everything up so bad, and he'd fucked Snö up so bad (she had, too, when she'd left) and then he just kept on fucking things up, until.. until.. until it was too late.
They hadn't met much, but she had always been there.
And now she wasn't.
And Sialia was jerking forward, as if someone else was pulling at her feet, until her chest pressed against his and her slender neck was slung over his back. The weight of her head was comforting and familiar, the whole thing familiar if only because he seemed to always end up hugging Kahlua. For a moment he remained still, heart stumbling in his chest. She was still a bit sweaty from the day's intense heat, but he felt nothing—not from himself, not from her. That moment had passed, like so much bark drooled out. Instead, she was warm in the way most living this are warm, still sun-baked in the skin but warm because her heart pumped warm blood through veins. Just.. pleasantly, innocently warm, because it wasn't about her body pressing against his, it was about her heart reaching out.
He's not talking about "love"; he's talking about some fucking sympathy.
His stillness had not been cold and rigid, merely thoughtful as his balance molded against hers, but he broke it after a second anyway, shedding it like a cloak as he placed his own great head upon her back. It fit neatly in the curve behind her withers.
The world beyond her spine was blurred, a trickle of tears finding its way down his cheeks in rhythm with his quiet, ragged breathing.
"It's honest if you truly feel it Liam. It's only ever a lie if you have to force it."
Or if someone magicks you into it.
Because he'd felt that sure as hell, but he hadn't wanted to feel it. Bitch. He blinked, not sure if he wanted to try and clear his eyes or not, but for a moment his vision sharpened before softening up again. "I suppose so," he managed in response, voice thick. And then, he didn't know what else to say, so he just stood there, leaning a little against her and weeping softly for a friend he missed now that he couldn't ever find her again.
[ @[Sialia]! ]
Psyche was nothing but memory, and the vague notion that he could just.. go outside of Helovia and find her again seemed so dumb, like he hadn't even been aware he'd been thinking it but something in him had refused to accept that Psyche was ashes now.
Psyche was dead. He could scour the earth for her, but he would never find her, because he knew what she was, and where she rested. And that was that. The end of it. The end. There would be no more Dark Empress and Frostheart on adventure, no more of their seamless, flowing interaction. No more.. no more of anything, except tears.
And they had begun to fall freely, now.
Gods, he'd fucked everything up so bad, and he'd fucked Snö up so bad (she had, too, when she'd left) and then he just kept on fucking things up, until.. until.. until it was too late.
They hadn't met much, but she had always been there.
And now she wasn't.
And Sialia was jerking forward, as if someone else was pulling at her feet, until her chest pressed against his and her slender neck was slung over his back. The weight of her head was comforting and familiar, the whole thing familiar if only because he seemed to always end up hugging Kahlua. For a moment he remained still, heart stumbling in his chest. She was still a bit sweaty from the day's intense heat, but he felt nothing—not from himself, not from her. That moment had passed, like so much bark drooled out. Instead, she was warm in the way most living this are warm, still sun-baked in the skin but warm because her heart pumped warm blood through veins. Just.. pleasantly, innocently warm, because it wasn't about her body pressing against his, it was about her heart reaching out.
He's not talking about "love"; he's talking about some fucking sympathy.
His stillness had not been cold and rigid, merely thoughtful as his balance molded against hers, but he broke it after a second anyway, shedding it like a cloak as he placed his own great head upon her back. It fit neatly in the curve behind her withers.
The world beyond her spine was blurred, a trickle of tears finding its way down his cheeks in rhythm with his quiet, ragged breathing.
"It's honest if you truly feel it Liam. It's only ever a lie if you have to force it."
Or if someone magicks you into it.
Because he'd felt that sure as hell, but he hadn't wanted to feel it. Bitch. He blinked, not sure if he wanted to try and clear his eyes or not, but for a moment his vision sharpened before softening up again. "I suppose so," he managed in response, voice thick. And then, he didn't know what else to say, so he just stood there, leaning a little against her and weeping softly for a friend he missed now that he couldn't ever find her again.
[ @[Sialia]! ]
