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10-08-2015, 11:24 PM
Red trails down from his shoulder, a wound left unhealed. It was not the only one bleeding. Another lay deeper, in the golden’s chest, dark and hidden where even he did not recognize the room any longer. The walls are cold and floor covered in years of dust, but it is there. Behind its locked door a beat can be heard, small soft, and weak. Its faint sound nearly drowned by the roaring of the world around it. Yet now see a red trail come from under the door, and the world around quiets down. From within the faint little beat growing faster and fainter. And the world grows dark as the mists of a past gather about the edges, reawakened. They bare the same marks, the same dark edges of pain, yet see how differently they wear them. She cradles her heart, her head hung over it as if was being carved from her soul. A present and tender burden, one to be cradled. Yet he, the golden. It weighs him. Body, shivering, sags, and head grows heavy. He does cradle himself in the same. No, instead his burden he lets rest upon him like the chains of a prison. A weight that has made him strong, made him the golden thief. A powerful force of might, able to withstand the storms of fate. Yet in the quiet world when none looked to him he remembered the iron’s touch, and their weight would press down upon him all the more. Bending his frame to the cold earth. A self-placed hell. A self locked door. A reminder. A protection. And now it was all being tested, being shaken. Her voice might as well have been the rattle of chains for as much as her words reminded him of a world that kept such stories in it. And how much pain, hardship, agony, and despair they held. It was all they ever held. It was all he could remember. Yet why she pulled on such things so quickly, why she could break through the door and come to the faint wounded room in threaten the very tender flesh of that sacred place he could not fathom. How many ladies had wrapped themselves about the golden in tease and seriousness? How many had pulled at his adrenaline, his ego and pride, though never coming close to here and this room? How did she do this? The mind of the gold was awakening but it was in such time, a foolish thing. She was serious, her gaze cutting across to him like throwing knives, pinning him against the wall. Over and over he rolled about the question. Answering it again and again with the same lies. But it would never be satisfied. Never resolved. He knew. He knew they were the hallow lies. He knew, because he knew the truth. He knew the truth, but he would never admit it. A faint whisper comes from her, broken in the hiccup and torn soul. It worms its way to him, making the convulsing stallion all the more uneasy. She was not taking the lies either. He was loosing the strands he stood with, the blanket covering him growing thinner. Then she comes forward. It made it worse, and he visible shrank as she came. His body trapped where it was with his shaking knees and weak blood. Why must the always be so close? Gods he couldn’t breathe. His lungs rasp ever more, threatening to constrict again but she is speaking again, and against everything sound advice he could think of, he hung on every word. Begging, pleading, she’d laugh it off. The she would realize how silly, foolish, and cruel this road was. How her serious gaze, the deep hurt and care was just a tease and trick. Some lie. Please let it be a lie. But she was not so kind. He suffers under her gaze, exposed and trapped as she goes on. Letting the words falls so freely from her lips. Letting them fly from her soul. Yet they seemed to veer from the topic. She even laughs! He jumps slightly to hear it, the racking cough gripped in his throat as his whole senses turn to her, struggling to follow, but feeling a little relief. She was talking of his pride of-she was never scared? Really? Well that was disappointing. It was a small light moment in the sea of dark and storm as his pride, being touched, remembers itself, even if it was in a negative. It made the comment pass easier. The lie remember itself. And yet, he still can not return it. His voice still caught in his throat. Even the wit of his ego had pulled out could not be repeated allowed to move the conversation on. To escape the darkness that still rumbled around. And with the passing second he misses his chance, and she goes on. Yet it is easier. Business. They were talking business. Respect. Envy. Skills. His fears were still fresh, but the lies grew power. Perhaps she was speaking of business all along. Yes, yes! Perhaps she needed him in terms of business, of their craft. Seeing how wakened he was now he thinks the seconds ago as him being in a trance. How foolish was he to think she was speaking of such dark things, when clearly it was just business right? It was nearly convincing. Nearly. He mentioned though her ills, and her laugher continues to lighten the dark corner of the world they had created. That sound he knew from her. That rosen girl is the one he knew. Yet even still the laugh is tainted with a chocking pain. So echo of the scream before. But for a moment he can let it go. It was just business. At her tease even he finds himself letting the natural flow carry him. The ways of the world he knew. And so he smiles and laughs with her in the same faint voice. Well, he tries. Mid-way his body shivers and his head drops he hacks, lung seizing his whole body. Even with the rough cough, the mood change was sensed by Haldir and the dark deer breaths easier. Black spots swell in the gold’s vision, but the he breaths in slowly and finds his balance. All would be well now, they would find the healer and perhaps even talk a little more busi- A hissing, cracked voice slices across the ever still earth. Both the gold and Haldir freeze. A heat rises in his breast as she begins again. No, they were done. They had spoke on business and they were done. There was nothing left to say. Nothing. Why couldn’t she leave it at that? Why couldn’t she stay out of the cave? Wait, that was another time. Why was she still so close? Why wouldn’t she just stop? His name hisses through her lips and hairs stand on end. Haldir again shrinks. Reduce her? Was she really so blind?! Could she not see what she was doing to him, again?! She was begging him to open it up again. She was ripping apart the illusion it had just been business. She was begging, but could she really be so cruel? A challenge echos on her lips and the gold groans, but it grows muffled in another series of stifled coughs. No. Please don’t say it. Once you say it there’s no going back. Ever muscle, even as they tremble grips and tightens. Don’t do this. It was stronger harder than before. He was more awake. And the moment’s relief made this round all the harsher because she was going there, and he would not let her. He didn’t want to let her. But he was powerless to stop it. For you see, though he held his ground more than she. Though the lies and airs stayed longer on him, he was the weaker one. He could not stop her from destroying him. And it angered him. I love you, Thranduil. Like lightening the words pierced his ears even as they pinned against them. A echo rung in his head, and from the small dark room a roar rang out, passing through the very locked room ripped from its hinges, and escaping out his lips into the world. It was a dark, grotesque and misplaced as hers, and yet still laced with the same pain and torture. It drowned it out, as he shut his eyes away from her. But as it died on his lips though, the echos rang in him mind and heart still, and from the dark room, the faint reply, from a different voice trembles in tenderness. A voice unknown to this world, but burned deep into his. I love you too, Thranduil. “No! You can’t-” It boomed from his chest, powerful in its desperation, but instantly broken again in the cost of such force as he is nearly rocked to earth in spasm of coughing. Darkness spotted his world again, and his body shivered waved in the wind even more. How could she do this to him? She loved him. How could she wish such a curse upon him? Love meant nothing but pain, agony, and destruction. It was a child’s dream and a wise man’s nightmare. Could she not see that? Never thought she could again. She should know better! She should know those words meant so much and yet she says them anyway. So freely! A release from some darkness. (No he was the blind one.) But all they brought him was terror and storm. A darkness swallowing all. Did she even really know? Was she thinking the worse fate could deal was a simple rejection? No one knew the real side of love. The terror of love, the horror. (You see while he stood there reeling in the blow of her confession the light summer days of such a feeling were lost in his fear of a repeat ending.) But that was not the worst. That was not the true source of anger. She said she loved him. Thranduil. Not the golden, or the Laurelin of Helovia. She said Thranduil. “You can’t.” It broke again, but this time weak and cracked. The Laurelin and Thranduil were not the same. The Golden Lord of the North was a creation, a construct, figurative. He made it up. It was the lies he created for himself and for them, and she was throwing her knives into the very heart of it for she had not called upon a different creature. Crowned head, in the throes of his vehemence, and desperation looks up and matches her sight. “You can’t love…” He couldn’t say ‘me. “…you don’t know me.” It still bore a powerful core, shaking and quivering in tone but a threatening underside. An animal cornered, wounded and tortured, trying its best to puff its chest and look large. Oh but how fragile it was. “Y-You think this a child’s game?” But his voice was cracking, growing rasp. “That some golden – “ A cough breaks in but he continues “-will return the feeling and you’ll live happily ever after.” Veins and sweat began to stain and taint his coat as he struggled to speak with angered pain within. To throw her off. To keep her away. To pull the long blade from the old wounds she re carved. “That is not love. That is not real.” Another cough racks and the end is near. “And neither am I.” It hisses and spits, cruel as the wounds she dealt him, but more pathetic. “You know nothing but lies. You don’t know me!” Truth pierces the cold air and his chest. He can contain it any longer and his whole body is seized and ruptured by another round of coughs. These though are too much, too great, and his energy is far too spent. Knees, trembling, breaks and he crashes to the earth. When peace returns to the scene again the golden is seen curled awkwardly on the rough earth. His head rests on its tip on the earth, its strained breaths blowing at the dust. Earth eyes still shut away from the world. Was she even still there? Had he succeeded in running her off? Oh it hurt. It ached. God someone take it away. But an image of a gray mare lying in the snow flashes and he grows in remembrance. It was all spent, all broken. And now only a whisper could find its way out, broken and cracked. He didn’t even know if she was there to hear it. “Please.” His whole frame shivered and trembled, and never had the world heard such a tone of utter weakness from his lips. “Stop…” The chains grated against his skin. The old wounds bled fresh. And her words still rang in his head. Please. Please make it stop. "talk talk talk" OOC:: Thranduil
His words are clever and bright
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