a thorn among the petals

the Rift

[PRIVATE] a thorn among the petals

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549

Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT

Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie

#17

04-06-2017, 11:02 AM

sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:

Rikyn -

She tremulously argues, falling silent as I move on, unwilling to discuss my actions or thoughts about that any longer, somehow able to rend the compliant idiot the magic has made me away from revealing everything I’ve kept privately, to myself. When her eyes grab mine, my name again rolling from her mouth, as if she has said it all her life (how can she trust everyone like this?), and she implores me, her words feel like ice dropping into the hot pit that is my stomach.

She has so much hope, and light. I bask in it while cringing away, silence finding me for some time, my mind wondering if maybe she’s right, or if, inversely, she is simply too pure of heart for her own good. What I had striven for in my life had been nothing of value, thus far. I served myself, and the desire to do as I wanted. I had served Vaelenne, and her nefarious army, hidden at the heart of a magical forest, behind the ruse of serenity, and peace; I had fallen into service of the First Gods, who did not walk the earth, but swam far beyond the deepest depths of a pool of ever-still water, bound to some realm we could not see, forced to project their power through a small window. Even worse than those who had suffered beneath those I’d served, then, I had always been a part of something nefarious, or cruel, and that I, selfish, naïve, wicked within my heart, had been so easily diverted along such a path.

I’d broken Aithniel’s heart, and abandoned my friends; I had left them to take the lives of innocent strangers alongside strangers, astride the thrumming tide of war and youth, and the promise of touching the sort of power that would sing throughout eternity. There was blood upon me, even if Tiamat did not see it, and it was blood that I had cast upon myself, out of greed, selfishness, and small mindedness. I see that now, here, in this world of love that is her, and I look away from her imploring, warm eyes, without a word, wrestling the magical demand to spill the rest of heart out upon the clearing floor down.

I wanted to change, and yet, changed nothing.

"Oh, Tiamat," my magically foolish self sighs as she thanks me for being honest with her, and I lean over with emotional weariness into her nearby form, "you would find warmth in a cold ember, but it’s why I’m so glad you are my friend."

Reaching for the stone she nudges towards me, suddenly almost sad to take it back, despite having hated everything up until this point, I feel the magic start to fall away almost instantly. Again, the dark inside of me rises up, slowly eating the sensation of being truly happy, and though the stone itself is still warm from her skin, inside of me feels cold.

I’m not sure what to do, when I’m entirely myself again, and instead sit and stare off into the distance, unsure what to say. Afraid, though I’d never admit such, that without the spell, it will very different, part of me wants to get up and leave. Hurt her feelings, warns Duir of this tactic, and so I remain where I am, holding the stupid rock, and feeling entirely foolish with so many flowers in my hair, and feelings roiling about in my chest.

sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.

Image by TheArtlex@DA
@Tiamat