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09-04-2016, 01:20 AM
i never said i'd stay to the end
Each breath claws its way out of her throat, sinking claws into the raw walls made from crying and digging further. Reality is still crushing her. None of her pores are willing enough or even brave enough to open themselves to accept the idea that fate and devotion was caught up to the her in the end. It’s just not something that she was supposed to be.
But then again she isn’t sure what she wants to be now. All of her life has been put towards what she has dreamed of doing(healing, being a Sun Physician), and once her dreams had been met, they didn’t play out the way that she had imagined.
What was it that she had imagined? No, because childhood innocence has a certain sort of bliss that doesn’t think of how cruel life really is. Healing has destroyed her, taken pieces of her and shaken it, taught her things that not many come to accept on their own terms only because it has brutally shoved it into her face.
“I failed.” A soft mumble that leaves her with tired, gathered up courage, enough to keep her together. Adding background noise to their bond, already filled up with a thousand differents things that are all pouring from her soul like an endless waterfall, Hobgoblin grumbles. He knows exactly where this is going and has nothing left to fight it with. Sikeax is on her own as far as he is concerned. If she will not listen to his voice of reason, then let it be silenced until she feels that she can take the world back in.
Memories, still fresh, vivid, alive with emotions that she can’t shed regardless of how long she’s cast herself out to sea, rush back in to remind her just how true it is. Ampere’s screaming words is their chant.
No matter how hard she clenches her eyes shut, it does nothing to get them out.
The bitter truth tastes like blood in her mouth. “Gaucho died. He got sick suddenly, and it ended up being bad.” Another sigh because she can’t stop doing it, using them to push out the bubbles of air that would have thrown themselves out in the forms of sobs if she didn’t. Crying in front of Volterra brought her no comfort. She can’t bring herself to burden him with her tears when they so barely know one another, just starting to get the idea that the other one isn’t as bad as they had previously imagined.
Or at least that’s how it was for her.
“I kept him glued to me for as much as I could, but it wasn’t enough. I tried everything I could imagine would work, and it did nothing. He kept getting worse, and it was like each day you could physically see him dying.”
Last one, she promises herself, letting the need to cry leave her with eyes clenched, sniffles, and a long drawn out breath that is quickly replaced with a swift gasp.
“Fine.”
A nod. He drifts in return, lets himself go because at this point, he knows better than to interfere. She would slam him at any moment with her fists balled tight and aimed from any weak spots that he could ever imagine, tear him down in thick blows until he is no more and the companion victim to her soft heart.
“He died when I wasn’t with him. I couldn’t stop it. That flame I showed you does nothing for illness if you can’t pinpoint it, and it was everywhere. He was losing his head with it too so it must have been something bad.
“After he was gone, after myself and some herd members found his corpse, I decided I didn’t want to be the Sun Physician anymore. It’s the worst job there is. No one respects you for it but wants everything from you. And you know what?” A low chuckle bursts forth, like she wants to laugh at her own misfortune. Another way for her to cope with fate.
“The Sun God made me fucking Sultana instead. I don’t know how to take it. I don’t know how to lead a herd, I don’t know how to do anything over than be a healer and teach those below me.” Distress coats her voice. If Hobgoblin had been in any other form, there would had been more obvious signs of it through him, a thrashing tail or the off-season sound of his singing, pained and without purpose other than to seek out some sort of comfort through it. Beasts of war are not made specifically for co-existing with souls like Sikeax’s.
Instead, he takes his leave entirely, not even passing a glance in the direction of Volterra. His body makes no sound, the foliage on the ground that anyone else would have had to stomp and thrash through passes through his body like he is an early morning fog. He’s gone before she can fully accept his absence.
Like every single time, he leaves her empty and lonely, looking for something in the dark, anything out there that will take up the space that he has left behind, treating him like he is her attachment object during childhood.
While his offer to help, or at least what came off as an offer, had made it to her ears, it didn’t settle with her completely. Hobgoblin hadn’t cared to listen. She had been too caught up in her own things to think of it, but not that she takes the time to process it completely, it catches her off guard.
Why? Hobgoblin’s attention pricks but in lazy fashion, attentive but not intrigued, listening but not like he intends to learn something out of her thoughts. Why would he want to help me?
He can’t conjure up Volterra’s reason for her. Doesn’t even try.
She makes eye contact with him, clings to it, tries to see if there’s something in his eyes that will give her the answer to the question she has but doesn’t want to ask. Muscles tense over her body in response, ears pressing forward for insight before ducking into submission.
“I can’t think of anything, but I’m open for ideas. Gaucho left a chaotic mess of people with little guidance.”
One more reminder of how much trouble this is going to be, how hard the future she isn’t ready for and never thought about will hit her.
OOC: bleh
also have my 300th post BECAUSE YOU AND VOL DESERVE IT <3
when both us knew how the end always is
you were angels,
so much more than everything
:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed
