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04-16-2016, 05:18 AM
somebody shine a light
I'm frozen by the fear in me
I'm frozen by the fear in me
Fragments.
A spin of voices, the murmur of conversations since long forgotten; warmth pressing against his chest, cushioned against someone's spine—
Scents, sensations. Doubts. Confusion; fear. His heart always thundering, as if it could outrun the inevitable (—because he never knew that he had a choice). A stampede in his chest as his mouth spoke lies, twisting and curling, trying to stay on top of the game while burying himself in ten thousand feet of snow to curb those savage desires.
Just one of the many rifts between body and mind.
Myrrine was staring at the forest floor, leaving Mauja to stare at the forest itself. Pines, decidedly different from the scrubby spruce and mountain birch of his northern home, reached for a distant sky, roots digging deep, holding on in the face of storms. The even pace of his breathing belied the chaos raging beneath his skin. He was rigid under the snowy pelt, muscles pulled taut and stiff, heart hammering.
He felt sick. With the memories. With the feelings it evoked in him. He wanted to gag, but he was a horse, so he damn well couldn't. Instead, he just stood there, eyes lying to the world as they stared through the forest.
Of all the things she had chosen to speak of .. of all the things she had chosen to do .. he could only hope her distress would blind her to his, that she would not see the harsh planes of his coiled muscles and see that he was poised on the brink of running.
(But you can't outrun your mind.)
It felt like an eternity before she looked up again, her dainty, dished little face turning upon her spotted neck to throw her hazel eyes at him again. Never before had he felt so threatened by someone so small, so loving. He swallowed, hoped it went unnoticed, and forced one of his ears to turn forward towards her. And what she said wasn't surprising; if it had taken him this many years to realize what he felt about the whole damn circus, why would she know after just one time?
But it seemed like there was more to it—of course there was. There always was. If it was just the semantics, the whole thing of bodies merging (just the mere concept of it made him shudder; it was disgusting and sweaty and yucky).. then it would've been easy. The problem was that somewhere, at the other end of your body, you had a head with a brain attached. That's where the problems always started.
She was far more honest than he had ever been. Tears began to slide from her eyes, and it broke—what?—something in him. There was a second when the world glitched out, where his heart paused to draw breath to resume its screaming. Everything went quiet.
And then, it came back, a low roar going through his ears as he managed to take those few, stumbling steps forward to close the distance between them. "Myrrine..." he whispered, softly, hesitantly, barely aware of the broken name tumbling out of his dark lips as he reached out to touch his muzzle to her neck. What was it with this seemingly so simple act that drove people to madness and ruin, guilt, doubt, regret..? He had no answers, nothing to offer but the steady touch of his soft nose, his ears for her words, and the shelter of his body (but he was beginning to smell of fear and anxiety).
She spoke of guilt.
He knew guilt.
But her guilt was different: she felt guilty about having done it with someone else. He felt guilty about having done it to himself at all. She felt guilty about having taken something she wanted at the time, giving in to primal need (curiosity?) and shattering some of her dreams.
What if life would be kind to you for once, and let you keep your dreams intact..? And even make them all come true? A soft sigh, quivering slightly with suppressed emotion, ghosted out across her neck. "I don't know," he responded quietly, trying to hunt down his own thoughts, but they ran like startled deer hounded by his own fear. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about any of this. "Only he can decide whether or not to forgive you." His upper lip was twitching against her soft coat, and there was nothing he could do stop it. "And, I think.. you need to forgive yourself. And the dreams that you lost."
His muzzle left its place against her neck, blue eyes turning back to the forest. There was a burning in his throat, a painful constriction around his heart; he blinked a couple of times, tried to draw deep, even breaths to make the choking lump in his breast go away. "Do you think he's still alive?" Mauja finally asked, his voice soft.
[ @Myrrine ]
A spin of voices, the murmur of conversations since long forgotten; warmth pressing against his chest, cushioned against someone's spine—
Scents, sensations. Doubts. Confusion; fear. His heart always thundering, as if it could outrun the inevitable (—because he never knew that he had a choice). A stampede in his chest as his mouth spoke lies, twisting and curling, trying to stay on top of the game while burying himself in ten thousand feet of snow to curb those savage desires.
Just one of the many rifts between body and mind.
Myrrine was staring at the forest floor, leaving Mauja to stare at the forest itself. Pines, decidedly different from the scrubby spruce and mountain birch of his northern home, reached for a distant sky, roots digging deep, holding on in the face of storms. The even pace of his breathing belied the chaos raging beneath his skin. He was rigid under the snowy pelt, muscles pulled taut and stiff, heart hammering.
He felt sick. With the memories. With the feelings it evoked in him. He wanted to gag, but he was a horse, so he damn well couldn't. Instead, he just stood there, eyes lying to the world as they stared through the forest.
Of all the things she had chosen to speak of .. of all the things she had chosen to do .. he could only hope her distress would blind her to his, that she would not see the harsh planes of his coiled muscles and see that he was poised on the brink of running.
(But you can't outrun your mind.)
It felt like an eternity before she looked up again, her dainty, dished little face turning upon her spotted neck to throw her hazel eyes at him again. Never before had he felt so threatened by someone so small, so loving. He swallowed, hoped it went unnoticed, and forced one of his ears to turn forward towards her. And what she said wasn't surprising; if it had taken him this many years to realize what he felt about the whole damn circus, why would she know after just one time?
But it seemed like there was more to it—of course there was. There always was. If it was just the semantics, the whole thing of bodies merging (just the mere concept of it made him shudder; it was disgusting and sweaty and yucky).. then it would've been easy. The problem was that somewhere, at the other end of your body, you had a head with a brain attached. That's where the problems always started.
She was far more honest than he had ever been. Tears began to slide from her eyes, and it broke—what?—something in him. There was a second when the world glitched out, where his heart paused to draw breath to resume its screaming. Everything went quiet.
And then, it came back, a low roar going through his ears as he managed to take those few, stumbling steps forward to close the distance between them. "Myrrine..." he whispered, softly, hesitantly, barely aware of the broken name tumbling out of his dark lips as he reached out to touch his muzzle to her neck. What was it with this seemingly so simple act that drove people to madness and ruin, guilt, doubt, regret..? He had no answers, nothing to offer but the steady touch of his soft nose, his ears for her words, and the shelter of his body (but he was beginning to smell of fear and anxiety).
She spoke of guilt.
He knew guilt.
But her guilt was different: she felt guilty about having done it with someone else. He felt guilty about having done it to himself at all. She felt guilty about having taken something she wanted at the time, giving in to primal need (curiosity?) and shattering some of her dreams.
What if life would be kind to you for once, and let you keep your dreams intact..? And even make them all come true? A soft sigh, quivering slightly with suppressed emotion, ghosted out across her neck. "I don't know," he responded quietly, trying to hunt down his own thoughts, but they ran like startled deer hounded by his own fear. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about any of this. "Only he can decide whether or not to forgive you." His upper lip was twitching against her soft coat, and there was nothing he could do stop it. "And, I think.. you need to forgive yourself. And the dreams that you lost."
His muzzle left its place against her neck, blue eyes turning back to the forest. There was a burning in his throat, a painful constriction around his heart; he blinked a couple of times, tried to draw deep, even breaths to make the choking lump in his breast go away. "Do you think he's still alive?" Mauja finally asked, his voice soft.
[ @Myrrine ]
somebody make me feel alive
and shatter me
and shatter me
