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11-06-2015, 11:52 PM
It was so lovely in the dark. Such well known walls, and corners. He feels the familiar torn walls with a sigh of release. This he knew. And he shoulders the well worn darkness with a remembrance. An acceptance. God it hurts. But he knows that hurt. He knows the blade that runs him through as if it was made by his own hand. He loves that blade, those chains. He loves it, for he knows it. And it has never left or betrayed him. It’s always there. His to nurse. His to breath to life. And it would never die. No that pain, that pain was his to hold tender. He would never let it go. He had sworn he wouldn’t. He had sworn never to forget. Never to let time slip and repeat. He never knew it to have a happy ending. And the next time he wasn’t sure he could get up again. A mumble comes in, invading the dark. A voice. A voice he knows. And his heart races to think it another’s. Panicked. But no. No, he was here. The rocks digging into his barrel and knees. And she was here. Though finally the volume fit. She sounded so angry. So demanding. Earth eyes shut away tighter. Why was she so upset? So shocked. Didn’t she see this coming? Didn’t she see the signs? Or was this another act of selfishness. Her words rolling off hot from her lips come muffled, but through. Yet he couldn’t think them through. His whole system was had spun and spun, and now…it can not go any further either. Her words he hears, but the shivering mass moves and reacts not. She might as well have been talking to a dead horse. Because love was a death sentence. When it is this real, when it breaks this hard. Yes. The sound of earth twitches his ears. Heat rolls upon his legs. Earth eyes open but their far from the bright fires they have been. A grey haze rolls over them like a film. Those eyes had not seen the light of day in many a year. She’s begging, pleading before him. Like he had the key. He wasn’t the holder of power. He wasn’t the golden. He wasn’t the Laurelin of the north. He didn’t own the real key. He only held a fake. And the lock was rusted shut. He was low, and beaten. He was Thranduil. The lost. The broken. She wanted it, here, have it. Haldir watches from the distance beside Alice. His dark head low with the shared weight of their souls. The poor deer who’s heart was still so large and whole. Its beat so strong and youthful. He can not understand. The story he knows. Its dark web trapping him from any speaking a word through the bond. So overwhelming was force coming from through the bond, he wasn’t even sure he could if he wanted to. So he stands, quiet, and still. It all slows to a halt again. The weight of the sickness, wounds, chains, and words grinding the gears to a stop. The crowned head slides down on the earth, running along without thought till his whole heads rests upon the ground. Then in the stillness the turning clock chimes and a deep sigh rolls out clean and clear, blowing up the dust and leaves, scarring them. Then he is still. Yes his coat trembles, and sides rise and lower uneasily with ragged breath. But he is still. Quiet. Dark. And Still. No barrier thrown up, and torn walls all around his feet. No mind spinning the threads and webs of lies, no it is quite silent. Nothing by the raw body on the ground. He could not escape. He could not run. So it was all laid to bare. Revealed was the full weight of the chains, and just how tight she had pulled them around his neck in trying to loosen them. "talk talk talk" OOC:: @ Hotaru Thranduil
His words are clever and bright
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