10-15-2019, 02:24 AM
sometimes I'm terrified of my heart;
of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants —
They were not born out of love, but they were a nearly perfect representation of the strange, twisted romance that let them exist.
Where he was black, she was white; both of them dripping in constellations and galaxies, but on entirely opposite canvases. The magic that manifested inside of him was macabre and sinister, and in her it was a tainted sort of good. Dark and light, but forged from the same fire, born from the same stars.
Stave and Desire; their mother was developing a flair for eerily appropriate names.
There was a hunger that gnawed inside of her that she didn’t understand yet. She hadn’t had the chance to explore the depths of her damage, because being with Stave was like a balm to the wound she had been born with. She doesn’t feel quite so empty when she’s with him, and from the moment she had blinked her black eyes open it had been him she was drawn to rather than their mother. There was no one that could possibly ever understand her the way that he did; not her mother, not their other siblings. She was linked to him in a way that would be impossible to break, and in a way that blinded her to how corrupt he would grow to be.
She trails after him today, and when he stares at those around them with a disapproving, unapproachable glare, she only watches them in rapt curiosity. She is easily distracted, frequently falling behind whenever someone caught her eye. She didn’t interact with them all that much; she didn’t really need anyone besides Stave, but she cannot help but to wonder what they must be like. Many of them were beautiful and vibrant, and some of them were decorated with stars like they were. She finds herself wondering what they could do; if they could manipulate the dead or create illusions of love the way that they could.
But the sharp way he calls her name snaps her back to reality, and in a moment she is drawing flush alongside of him. She is not afraid of him the way that she maybe should be, and she does not hesitate to press her delicate nose against the slope of his shoulder. “Where are we going today?” She asks him in the high melody of her voice, and the rest of the meadow fades to the background when he commands her full attention.
Where he was black, she was white; both of them dripping in constellations and galaxies, but on entirely opposite canvases. The magic that manifested inside of him was macabre and sinister, and in her it was a tainted sort of good. Dark and light, but forged from the same fire, born from the same stars.
Stave and Desire; their mother was developing a flair for eerily appropriate names.
There was a hunger that gnawed inside of her that she didn’t understand yet. She hadn’t had the chance to explore the depths of her damage, because being with Stave was like a balm to the wound she had been born with. She doesn’t feel quite so empty when she’s with him, and from the moment she had blinked her black eyes open it had been him she was drawn to rather than their mother. There was no one that could possibly ever understand her the way that he did; not her mother, not their other siblings. She was linked to him in a way that would be impossible to break, and in a way that blinded her to how corrupt he would grow to be.
She trails after him today, and when he stares at those around them with a disapproving, unapproachable glare, she only watches them in rapt curiosity. She is easily distracted, frequently falling behind whenever someone caught her eye. She didn’t interact with them all that much; she didn’t really need anyone besides Stave, but she cannot help but to wonder what they must be like. Many of them were beautiful and vibrant, and some of them were decorated with stars like they were. She finds herself wondering what they could do; if they could manipulate the dead or create illusions of love the way that they could.
But the sharp way he calls her name snaps her back to reality, and in a moment she is drawing flush alongside of him. She is not afraid of him the way that she maybe should be, and she does not hesitate to press her delicate nose against the slope of his shoulder. “Where are we going today?” She asks him in the high melody of her voice, and the rest of the meadow fades to the background when he commands her full attention.
Desire