she fell for the idea of him
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
She does not flinch away from Lilli’s touch, but instead returns it – her pale muzzle brushing just lightly against the young girl’s red neck. It was so rare that she interacted with someone that was genuinely kind, and she had forgotten what it was like. To not have to be on edge, to not have to tread so careful and speak so lightly for fear of setting off the hair-trigger tempers she tended to be surrounded by. She had been kind like her, once. Not in the subdued, almost distant way that she is now, but the kind where warmth radiated from every part of her and she was convinced that everyone had a small spark of good in them.
She doesn’t look for that light anymore. She knows now that some souls are meant to always be in the dark, and she has found that it no longer bothers her. She knew the dark – the real dark, the endless black of being blind – for so long that it felt like home, more than light ever could anymore.
She wonders, though, how long it will take for this place to change Lilli, too. She could be lucky enough to escape the tragedy that seemed to follow everyone that lived here – no one seemed to make it out unscathed, not even the ones that did everything right.
When she says Carnage’s name she notices the curiosity that almost immediately ignites in her eyes, and for a fleeting moment she almost regrets it. The story of the dale, and how she had acquired it and later lost her eyes in it, was one that had been told by others and herself so many times that she could speak of it – and him – in an almost mechanical way. It isn’t such a simple story, now. It had been easy before when the story simply was she was given the dale and then, during a disagreement, Carnage blinded her. It was not a strange tale, not for those that knew anything of what the dark god was like, and not even she had harbored any ill-feelings towards him. Getting angry over someone behaving exactly as they were known to do seemed futile.
The story was a little more tumultuous now, though. Other events have transpired – complex and turbulent, with none of it painting any clearer of a picture.
She ignores the way her chest tightens, and instead tips her head to regard Lilli with a slow, faint smile. “I do know him. He’s not always seen, but he’s still here.” She pauses, and she doesn’t know if it feels as heavy to Lilliana as it does to her. Because there is a part of her that wants to say everything, that wants to tell her how he is both brilliant and terrifying, but then there is a part of her that wants to say nothing at all.
“Where do you live, Lilli?” She chooses to skirt away from the previous topic, but makes sure that the shift does not appear abrupt or unkind. “You don’t strike me as the kind that just lives in the meadow.”
She doesn’t look for that light anymore. She knows now that some souls are meant to always be in the dark, and she has found that it no longer bothers her. She knew the dark – the real dark, the endless black of being blind – for so long that it felt like home, more than light ever could anymore.
She wonders, though, how long it will take for this place to change Lilli, too. She could be lucky enough to escape the tragedy that seemed to follow everyone that lived here – no one seemed to make it out unscathed, not even the ones that did everything right.
When she says Carnage’s name she notices the curiosity that almost immediately ignites in her eyes, and for a fleeting moment she almost regrets it. The story of the dale, and how she had acquired it and later lost her eyes in it, was one that had been told by others and herself so many times that she could speak of it – and him – in an almost mechanical way. It isn’t such a simple story, now. It had been easy before when the story simply was she was given the dale and then, during a disagreement, Carnage blinded her. It was not a strange tale, not for those that knew anything of what the dark god was like, and not even she had harbored any ill-feelings towards him. Getting angry over someone behaving exactly as they were known to do seemed futile.
The story was a little more tumultuous now, though. Other events have transpired – complex and turbulent, with none of it painting any clearer of a picture.
She ignores the way her chest tightens, and instead tips her head to regard Lilli with a slow, faint smile. “I do know him. He’s not always seen, but he’s still here.” She pauses, and she doesn’t know if it feels as heavy to Lilliana as it does to her. Because there is a part of her that wants to say everything, that wants to tell her how he is both brilliant and terrifying, but then there is a part of her that wants to say nothing at all.
“Where do you live, Lilli?” She chooses to skirt away from the previous topic, but makes sure that the shift does not appear abrupt or unkind. “You don’t strike me as the kind that just lives in the meadow.”
ryatah