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11-10-2016, 01:05 PM
A voice rings in his ears as he sways back and forth, dangerously close to collapsing against the pillar on which he leans. At first, it sounds so far away that he imagines it might be Zarina, waking up from the cold slumber she has fallen into upon his withers. Zarina? he calls to her, and he isn’t sure if he is speaking aloud or if it’s all in his head, and the floor is spinning up to meet him and the ceiling is blurring into colorful swirls in his left eye, and all of a sudden he is aware of a figure beside him, a figure that he knows that he knows from somewhere, but the where is lingering just out of his reach. The beautiful spotted angel speaks, but he cannot make out the words through the ringing in his ears, and when he tries to shake his head to clear them he only agitates his wounds further. He gasps with the sudden, sharp pains.
“M-myrrine.” There it is, the name that spews sluggishly forth off of a tongue that feels too big for his mouth. His voice is thick, his pronunciation slurring, all of the charm that is usually present in his baritone voice replaced only with pain. “Where… where is Laume?” Please, anywhere but here, don’t let her see me like this. “Is she…safe?” A spasmodic cough wracks his golden frame, the strange, wheezing rattle of death evident now. And in spite of the haze of pain, the prince feels the sudden sting of guilt that she is the one to have stumbled upon his deathbed, she who never wanted anything of him besides a shoulder to cry on. And yet, he had hurt her. He had hurt everyone, and he is only making things worse now.
“Myrrine,” he whispers. He is fading fast, her form blurring into darkness even now. He hasn’t much time, but he has to do what he can to save her from this pain. “Don’t – don’t do this to yourself. It’s – too – late for me, I’m… I’m dying.” And he knows in his bones that what he says is true. “But I’ll watch over you – both of you – from wherever I end up. You won’t be alone, I promise.” His breaths are coming faster now, growing more shallow by the second. It won’t be long before he slips away for good. He is so tired, and things don’t hurt so badly here, lying on the floor of the Rotunda. It seems that Myrrine’s sobs are from somewhere far away, and somewhere in his soul he feels something beckoning him away.
But it doesn’t seem right to leave her just yet. He will hold on as long as he can, for her.
"more words."
@Myrrine
“M-myrrine.” There it is, the name that spews sluggishly forth off of a tongue that feels too big for his mouth. His voice is thick, his pronunciation slurring, all of the charm that is usually present in his baritone voice replaced only with pain. “Where… where is Laume?” Please, anywhere but here, don’t let her see me like this. “Is she…safe?” A spasmodic cough wracks his golden frame, the strange, wheezing rattle of death evident now. And in spite of the haze of pain, the prince feels the sudden sting of guilt that she is the one to have stumbled upon his deathbed, she who never wanted anything of him besides a shoulder to cry on. And yet, he had hurt her. He had hurt everyone, and he is only making things worse now.
“Myrrine,” he whispers. He is fading fast, her form blurring into darkness even now. He hasn’t much time, but he has to do what he can to save her from this pain. “Don’t – don’t do this to yourself. It’s – too – late for me, I’m… I’m dying.” And he knows in his bones that what he says is true. “But I’ll watch over you – both of you – from wherever I end up. You won’t be alone, I promise.” His breaths are coming faster now, growing more shallow by the second. It won’t be long before he slips away for good. He is so tired, and things don’t hurt so badly here, lying on the floor of the Rotunda. It seems that Myrrine’s sobs are from somewhere far away, and somewhere in his soul he feels something beckoning him away.
But it doesn’t seem right to leave her just yet. He will hold on as long as he can, for her.
"more words."
@Myrrine
Quilyan
counting on the night for a beautiful day;
subtlepatterns.com | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart
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Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
