.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
04-24-2016, 03:33 AM
and i know that none of it matters
‘You have to promise me that if you ever see him, you run.’
Had you been so transparent that even he could guess at the paths of destruction and vehemence your mind had so quickly (just in the moments it took him to tell you how something important had been taken, stolen, ruined) carved? At the machinations of devilry that you have delved into (and failed) countless times, and of the thoughts of just how far you were willing to go to save him from spending too long, becoming lost, in the notion of retribution (how long had it already been?)? You breathe, and it is all you can do; no words of denial are spoken, and you do not ask anything further about the man that had taken too much. ‘He’s black and white, built like a draft. A unicorn … two dragons, one white, the other gold.’ You dare to wonder, for as much as Erebos recalls, if a man (can he be called such a thing?) would remember the child whose life he had snuffed out.
You press closer into his skin, lips moving to ask him of things that you fear, know, (how long had he no doubt harbored the same thoughts as you, of revenge, of teaching a beast that with every action there is a reaction, that he is not a god, deserving of choosing when or how someone dies? And that is all, for you cannot bring yourself to think of Erebos falling to the same mistake, of wanting to be the last thing that the cretin sees) he will not grant you so that, should you find them (black and white, gold and ivory), it will not be your own words to hold you back: “as long as you promise me the same.”
Had you been so transparent that even he could guess at the paths of destruction and vehemence your mind had so quickly (just in the moments it took him to tell you how something important had been taken, stolen, ruined) carved? At the machinations of devilry that you have delved into (and failed) countless times, and of the thoughts of just how far you were willing to go to save him from spending too long, becoming lost, in the notion of retribution (how long had it already been?)? You breathe, and it is all you can do; no words of denial are spoken, and you do not ask anything further about the man that had taken too much. ‘He’s black and white, built like a draft. A unicorn … two dragons, one white, the other gold.’ You dare to wonder, for as much as Erebos recalls, if a man (can he be called such a thing?) would remember the child whose life he had snuffed out.
You press closer into his skin, lips moving to ask him of things that you fear, know, (how long had he no doubt harbored the same thoughts as you, of revenge, of teaching a beast that with every action there is a reaction, that he is not a god, deserving of choosing when or how someone dies? And that is all, for you cannot bring yourself to think of Erebos falling to the same mistake, of wanting to be the last thing that the cretin sees) he will not grant you so that, should you find them (black and white, gold and ivory), it will not be your own words to hold you back: “as long as you promise me the same.”
as long as i'm inside this dream with you
@Erebos
please tag enna in every post
violence permitted barring permanent injury / death
