• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [private]  can't you see my mind is a burning hell? || ledger [m]
    #1
    Ellyse
    I'm the only one who will walk across a fire for you.
    it's only fear that makes you run, the demons that you're hiding from.
      Time is unyielding, and it waits for no one – cruel and zealous, the days, the months, and the years dredge on, and with the repeated rise of a brilliant dawn, and the fall of a tired, weary dusk, it goes on. There are some wounds too grievous to be mended with the delicate thread of faith, and some too deep and too agonizing to bury -  time cannot mend all, after all, and anyone foolish enough to think otherwise deserved their anguish – but it did ease the ache.

       Though her pallid skin is seemingly unmarked by any scarring, and her delicate, finely preened feathers appear untouched and pristine, there are festering, seeping lesions beneath the surface of her flesh – emotional lacerations, too raw to heal – too tender to bring to the surface. Rather than expecting time to do anything but provoke her distant, buried memories of elation and bliss, she carried one – as unbending and as steadfast as time itself; unwilling to let the burden of it weigh her down.

       With a low, rumbling sigh, she draws herself away from the solitude she had permitted to take presence in her very bones – enough time had gone by, she decided, and enough time had been wasted. Though her heart still ached for what could not be, the thought of Magnus no longer caused her anguish – perhaps because she refused to let it (he had been so much to her; meant so much to her - he always would, but she could not love the ghost of what was). Her mind had not been well when she found solace in the silence and isolation; the once fortified threads that held her together had become weak,   worn and threadbare – but time had its way of mending all things.

       Her heart aches for him, for Magnus (the father of her three children; her first and only friend), but she would not seek him – she would not force his hand. It was a constant push and pull, one that left her both anxious and content, and so quietly, she had waited for him – but he had slipped away beneath the drapery of evenfall, with nary a word said to her, without even a moment of consideration for her as she bore their third (and inevitably, last) child – a daughter, supple, sweet and dark – not from her own lineage, but from his – as she labored alone.

       She would not wait any longer.

       The sun is bright, with its gleaming light weaving its way through the many finely preened rows of feathers lining the long length of her pale wings, tucked carefully along the swell of her flank. She savors the warmth of it, having spent too long tucked away within the quiet shadow of the thicket – too long kept to herself. The soft caress of the swaying grain stirs an itch along the length of her right, rear leg, and irritably, she coils her long, slender neck down, teeth grazing along the prickling irritation, warding it away. 

       There is a stirring in the brush that causes her heart to seize within her chest, as her cheek turns towards the source of the noise – a loping, seemingly brooding figure, with skin even more vividly golden than her own, and pale creamy tresses, tangled against the girth of his neck. Quietly, she presses forward, her curiosity having gotten the better of her – but it is not until his cheek is turned, and she can see the scarring of one socket and the single, dark eye roving, with flecks of gold lining the pupil that she becomes drawn to him.

       ”Looking for someone?” she muses thoughtfully, raising her neck higher and stiffening her posture, though her cheek is tilted curiously to the left, while her own hazel eyes search the familiar plane of his strong, masculine features. There is something eerily familiar about him – something she cannot quite place. 
    when all your promises are gone, I'm the only one.
    Reply
    #2

    Bound for trouble from the start
    I've been walking through this old world in the dark

    Grief is an old wound lodged firmly in the center of his pulsing heart. It sits on a throne, holding court with Loneliness and Misery. They’ve been entertaining a new guest recently. His name is Rage. Carnage left rage in the chestnut’s chest where it infiltrated into his entire being after claiming his weak fluttering heart. It comes in surges, in and out like the ocean tides. He knew where the anger had stemmed from in the beginning, the torment of what he had been dealt at the hands of a madman. What he didn’t understand was that anger has layers. The Dark God hadn’t placed the emotion there, he had merely coaxed it out. It had been laying passively underneath so much despair and self-loathing, dormant. Now that it had been released, he could barely restrain it.

    He doesn’t know if Magnus is still here. If he had died off again, come back, or simply stayed. Even though Ledger had slipped away, he was sure that his father would have looked for him. Searched for him, asked about him. Surely Magnus would have been devastated to let his damaged son slip through his fingers once more. It’s a hope he clings to, a selfish one. He needs to believe it. For there was a small nugget of truth that had played out in that dark metal cage he had been captured in. In the alternate reality where he had murdered his father, the hateful words that had flown between spittle and blood. It was something that hadn't left him all these years.

    Magnus had been fine not knowing he existed. While Ledger watched his mother’s death mere minutes after birth and had been thrown into the hands of an emotionally stunted woman by the very person who had stolen his life… Magnus had moved on. He had loved others, fathered more children. When they were brought together, finally reunited, as bittersweet as it had been… Hadn’t there been that twinge deep in his gut? The one that wondered why he hadn’t looked for him. Surely he had known deep down, surely he had realized that Raaquel had been pregnant. He had been lovers with the the very mare that had been concealing him for god sake. Why didn’t you save me? Why?

    He had blamed his wrath on the brutality of having his eye ripped from it’s socket. From dying and being brought back to life in worse condition then he had left it. But the churning anger towards his father had always been there. As badly as he wanted a relationship with his father, it was hard to look in the mirror image of his eyes and not feel utterly betrayed and abandoned. However this time would surely be different. There was no way Magnus would have let him down again.

    The world he once knew had changed. Dramatically. He doesn’t understand any of this yet, is just beginning to put the pieces together. The Meadow is off but he doesn’t understand why. It seems more… Divided. The paths don’t line up, they don’t seem to lead in the right directions. It’s as if God himself had taken the world between his hands and shook it. Now everything was displaced. It was disorienting. His facial features are arranged in faint bewilderment when a figure of pale gold seems to materialize beside him. His good eye darkens as it fixes in on her, the flecks of gold becoming brighter. She is attractive despite the lines of sadness that seem to tug at the corner of her lips and darken around the hollows of her eyes. For a moment he forgets to be self conscious about his disfigurements, misery has found company.

    ”I am. I think I am.” He pauses, unsure. ”Maybe. I doubt I’ll find them though.” Raspy words, harsh to his ears and flat. His tongue not used to forming words after being silent for so long. Part of him hoped that the girl of glass would be here. He had never been able to truly apologize to her after becoming more atrocious then she could ever think she was. And of course he was looking for the stalwart figure of the man he had forever been searching for. A flicker of anxiety in his sunken chest, the small glimmer of hope that he would be wrong this time. If he was not… He dares not think of the beast within and what it might do.

    Ledger

    Reply
    #3
    Ellyse
    I'm the only one who will walk across a fire for you.
    it's only fear that makes you run, the demons that you're hiding from.
     And though her heart is but a broken, aching thing, her resolve is unwavering – and while wounded and wrought with disappointment, she could not fault Magnus for his disappearance. He was so often a pillar of strength, a beacon of hope – a once unfaltering, resolute force to be reckoned with, but no one is without flaw – and no one is impervious to heartache. He had lived more lifetimes that he had ever hoped he would; he had lost so much more than he ever feared he might – and though he had a vast, open heart, and a sincerity buried in the tender marrow of his bones, the weight of his demons were often too much for him to bear.

      It would be wholly inaccurate to assume that he had simply moved on without the ones he had loved in the many months, years, even decades that had come and gone – his capacity for affection, for compassion, and for companionship knew no bounds, but even so, there was a deeper, much darker part of him that always longed for something else, for a different time. A different place.

      A chasm had opened within his heart; a void that could not be filled – and though the blood within his veins churned seamlessly and rhythmically through his veins, so did the dread of waking beneath the pale light of dawn, still lingering in the shadow of what had once been and what no longer was.

      She longed for his company – for his steady drive, for his comforting voice, and tender touch – but her time with him had been fleeting. He was an enigma; mysterious, broken, vulnerable, yet still intangible. Untouchable. Her love for him had been steadfast and true, but it had not been enough to make him stay – it had not been enough to keep the demons at bay.

      Nothing had been the same for him, either. The world had shifted and changed before his very eyes, and everything he had ever known in any lifetime had been taken away from him, torn from his clutches, and he was left with little else but the memories of yesteryear. He had looked for those he had lost, to little avail. It had been hard on him, emotionally, physically – but she had been too selfish to see it; too self-centered to look beyond her own frustration and see the broken, fragmented thing that he was, longing for children she would never meet, pining for lovers he would never see again, grieving the loss of so many.

      She had been foolish in loving him, but she would not have done it any differently.

      Alas, these are but a small piece of an otherworldly puzzle, festering with complexity, sorrow, and anguish. Before her, there is the shadow of a man, his own features contorted into indiscernible emotion – his own single, searching eye roving over her, tracing the gentle slope of her spine, the plumage tucked against the curve of her side, and the plane of her facial features, feminine and yet hardened with her own wretched loneliness.

      She knew it all too well, and he, too, seemed to be suffering.

      ”You look familiar to me, somehow – I would like to be of assistance, if you’ll let me,” she says quietly, her voice barely rising above the rustling of the vegetation as the grain sways to and fro against the length of her golden legs. ”you never know what you might find. My name is Ellyse.”
    when all your promises are gone, I'm the only one.
    Reply
    #4

    Bound for trouble from the start
    I've been walking through this old world in the dark

    God he had been so like her once. Unable to cast blame and judgement, so confident that there must be a reason for why terrible things happen. How jaded he had been. There are no good reasons, terrible things just happen. Terrible people just exist. Karma doesn’t always strike three fold on those that deserve it. Some people have no destiny towards a happy ending. He understands this now. He knows the cards he’s been dealt and that there will be nothing better than this. Perhaps she would be better off accepting this as well.

    Magnus had a plethora of lovers. There had been those that were mere acquaintances and then those few great loves of his life. His own mother had merely been a sweet misguided thing who so badly loved a man who would never reciprocate the way she had desperately wanted him to. He gave that affection to Joelle. To the children they had together. Why hadn’t Raaquel deserved that life? Perhaps his own would have been very different. It is one of those nagging questions that he’s always thought but never spoken aloud.

    How the chestnut stallion had been so desperate to find solace in another. Foolishly he had thought he could undo the wrongs in his life by creating his own family. Giving his children the childhood he never had, finally feeling the loving embrace of another. To finally belong. Stupid stupid man. It was a dream and nothing more than that. Although he was far from old, he was also no spring chicken. Between his disregard for his appearance and the terrible things he had seen, years were etched into the grooves of his face. Who could possibly want him now with his black and bitter heart, holding nothing but pain and resentment?

    Her regret is exposed on the lines that trace her face. He understands to an extent. At least she had loved at all. That’s more then he had ever had. She’s seen things too, he can tell, and her body is more muscular than his own. She's probably seen things just as terrifying. True, he was in a rather pathetic state but his body had never been trained for war. They had preferred to keep him weak in his captivity. They are sufferers. It’s something that everyone tries to hide and fails at, no matter the mask they may place… The eyes always give it away, the soul pleading for help. Please ease this burden.

    ”Thank you Ellyse.” He finally manages, turning the intact side of his face away from her, unsure of what she wants to see in him. What she’s trying to find. ”I’m Ledger.” A pause, not because he thinks she’s heard of him but because he’s wrestling with the question. Hesitant if he really wants to know the answer. ”I thought I might find my father..His name is Magnus.” Another pause, unable to look at her and expose himself truly. ”Or a girl named Adaline. You would remember her if you saw her.” A faint smile ghosts his lips at the memory of her, with her fragile translucent skin. His good eye avoiding, still fixed on the horizon. If those names ring a bell, he doesn’t see it.

    Ledger

    Reply
    #5
    Ellyse
    I'm the only one who will walk across a fire for you.
    it's only fear that makes you run, the demons that you're hiding from.
     She knew too well the heartbreak that went along with unrequited affection – and though she had thought herself strong enough to withstand the eye of the storm when it came, when the truth of their relationship had settled between her terse and tense shoulders – a burden to bear. He had warned her. She could never deny it, nor could she say otherwise. He had warned her that his heart was a beaten and broken thing, with delicate, tearing heartstrings clinging precariously to the small, infinitesimal pieces left. She pressed on, attempting to mend what she could, longing to be – if nothing else – a small beacon of light in the furious, reckless hurricane that had been his life.

      And in the wake of his departure, it was not him, but her left to pick up the pieces of her own broken heart – for she had lost so much more than a lover. A father, a friend – her only friend. Her own heart aches at the thought, but it aches less now – less and less, with each passing day, but there was a part of her that wondered if it would ever fade away completely. In time, she would find, it would not. Alas, the morning sun arises, and it falls, making way for the light of a brilliant moon – and life, unyielding and forceful, goes on.

      She is tired, and weary – and it is evident within the shadow of her gaze, steady and settled upon the strong and chiseled features of his face. She would not settle onto his scarred eye; it was no business of hers as to how he had lost it, and she would not make him more uncomfortable than he already seemingly was by prying. Not now. She, herself, was caught somewhere between her own youth and the fragility of maturity, clear in the subtle creases tucked along the side of each vivid, golden eye. Though slender and sleek, there is thick and heavy muscle under her pale skin, rippling and moving smoothly under the surface with each adjustment to her posture.

      Quietly, she observes him. Studying the carefully carved jaw bone, the deeply-set eyes (soulful, familiar), and when he quietly utters the name of his feather, her heart nearly seizes within the suddenly too tight confinement of her chest. Her heart is beating faster then - thump, thump, thump - so much so that she is certain that he must be able to hear it, even over the rustling of the evening breeze, or the distant crooning of lovebirds tucked away within a willow branch. Magnus, a name much heavier on her mind than it had been even moments ago.

      ”You look so much like him,” she murmurs before she is able to stop herself, hesitating – holding his gaze for a moment, a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding exhaled at last. ”your structure, that is – your eye color,” she says even more quietly, remembering the endless depths with warm, golden flecks. ”I know him. I knew him.”

      A pause, and then, ”I haven’t heard of an Adaline, I’m sorry,” she says quietly, and her apology is meaningful and sincere. It didn’t sound familiar to her, but she had hardly touched the surface of all those who existed within the vast expanse of Beqanna. ”and Magnus has not been seen in some time. A few years.”

      Years.

      Suddenly, her heart is so much heavier.
    when all your promises are gone, I'm the only one.
    Reply
    #6

    Bound for trouble from the start
    I've been walking through this old world in the dark

    The look on her face speaks volumes. He’s seen it before. Some might call it luck but he finds it a cruelty, to always run into his father’s lovers every time he’s searching for him. She seems to wilt visibly like an over watered flower. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, her muscles taunt as she murmurs ”You look so much like him.” Yep, she’s another one of his. A soft sigh escapes him without meaning to let it go. His own facial expression is one of tired dismay because he already knows what will follow next. It’s happened so many times. Years, she said. Years he’s been gone. Again. ”Figures.” He mutters flatly, his tail flicking in annoyance against his hindquarters.

    Adaline. Of course she is still a mystery, an enigma. He’s not surprised but he can’t hide his disappointment. For some reason that stings more then his father’s disappearance. Perhaps she may still be lurking somewhere, maybe there was still a chance of finding her. She had never been one for crowds. As far as he knew, she hadn't associated with many friends. And since he was clinging to slivers of hope, grasping at straws, he finally asks her, ”Did he ever mention me?” But he already knows that he didn’t. Why would he?

    He knows deep in his bitter heart that Magnus never looked for him, spoke about him, nothing. It would have sent at least a flicker of recognition in her golden eyes when he introduced himself. She’s still staring at him and he shifts uncomfortably. He can’t imagine he looks anything like his father, not in the ravaged state he’s in. They always mention his eyes, you have your father’s eyes. He use to love that phrase, bask in it. Knowing that he somehow resembled his hero. It now leaves a bad taste in his mouth, fueling his resentment.

    Where was Magnus when he was truly needed? The white knight in shining armor? He left broken hearted damsels and broken children in his wake. What kind of hero did that?

    Ledger

    Reply
    #7
    Ellyse
    I'm the only one who will walk across a fire for you.
    it's only fear that makes you run, the demons that you're hiding from.
      ”Don’t,” she says quietly, suddenly, the wilted wallflower hidden within the golden flecks of her eyes gone – and left in its wake is a fierce, biting glower, her jaw tensed as her teeth clench together. He is dismissive, with dismay and disappointment etched into his features – the irritable sigh, the scrutinizing scowl, and that is what stirs her ire from the hearth of her chest.

      It is a hefty reminder of the darker moments shared with Magnus, close to an icy, beckoning sea, drawn out into the shallow water with the strength of the current pressing urgently against their bodies, longing to pull them out further. A reminder of his self-loathing, his melancholy woe, his condemnation for the anguish the world has caused him. If Ledger is not familiar in any other way, the defeatism and anger bubbling beneath every one of his terse words is enough to convince her that she must be of Magnus’ bloodline.

      ”Don’t. Don’t write me off – I can see it in the way that you are looking at me, and you are wrong.” She is stiffened now; defensive. She knew much about Magnus, but never enough – never enough. She knew of the great, unparalleled loves that had taken the larger pieces of his bruised and battered heart; she knew the smallest wisps of his past that he would allow her to guard beneath the pale light of the moon, when the loneliness and longing crept in.

      And in the end, she did not want to be just another number – another notch in his bedpost ( even if it were true). ”Your father was the only one who stood beside me, even when I did not deserve it,”(her voice fades then, for a moment) ”and above all else, he was a friend.”

      A friend, a fleeting, distant lover –
      A friend that had unknowingly betrayed her trust, abandoned her and their unborn daughter.

      Warily, her gaze falters, averting to the horizon where the bleak sunlight lay draped over the gentle slopes of distant mountains. The air is thick and rife with emotion, and she can feel the aching disappointment seeping from his pores, she can see the defeat etched into his posture, and she quietly contemplates – she had been selfish; Magnus had touched so many lives. Not only her own.

      She was not the only one with a right to anger.

       Did he ever mention me?

      ”No, but he held a lot of pain, and a lot of guilt for those he left behind,” she murmurs softly, ”he lived a many more lifetimes than I. Many more than maybe even you.” But she does not doubt that he has seen much – the heavy scarring over his eye is a telling tale in and of itself. ”It would be impossible for me to know all that ailed him. It does not mean that you weren’t important to him, or that he did not love you.”

      The words felt foreign – a bitter, acrid bile, rising in her throat.
      If only she could wholly believe the words she was telling him.
      If only she felt that way.

      One day.
    when all your promises are gone, I'm the only one.
    Reply
    #8

    Bound for trouble from the start
    I've been walking through this old world in the dark

    That’s what he always failed to see, how much alike the two stallions were. Both brooding souls wrestling with some inner turmoil, a private battle. Nobody was ever allowed in. The few times he had actually been able to be with Magnus had been fleeting. When his father was in the embrace of another, some walls seemed to always come down. With Ledger however, he had always seemed walled up. Distant. When they had finally found each other, he couldn’t lie and say that he hadn’t tried. He did. But it wasn’t enough. He just wanted to be enough for him. It was his own disappointment in himself that burns this unbridled anger towards Magnus. That he will never live up to that expectation.

    She’s upset with him but he can’t help himself. His jaw tightens as she becomes defensive. He instantly thinks she’s protecting his father, a man who certainly doesn’t need protection. ”I’m not writing you off.” He snaps, gold flecks brightening as he turns his head back to her, snorting with his agitation. The bear doing summersaults within his belly, it can’t come out but it will egg him on. His blood pressure rising with the indignity of it all. ”Of course he was at your side. He always is, for everyone else but his own flesh and blood.” The words are brutal and raw, his voice rising without him realizing. Not caring that hot tears have spilled down his cheek. He is unashamed and angry and god dammit he had every right to be.

    ”Do you see me?” He demands, closing the gap between them. This raggedy icy stallion suddenly fueled by a long subdued fire. ”How can you defend him? Look at me. No, look at me!” He cries out, forcing his words to make her take in the true horror of what had been done to him. The claw marks over the empty socket. The scars that rip and tear all over his bony body. The brand that curls into his flesh. ”I’m so glad he was there to help you. Pity he wasn’t there to help me. Again.” He spits darkly, growling angrily before spinning away from her.

    His skin trembles across his bones, he is shaking and his breathing is ragged. As soon as he hears her quiet No, he blocks out the rest of what she says. It doesn’t matter. His laughter is cold and hollow, as hollow as his empty socket. ”I bet you anything he told you about Joelle…” His laughter continues but it’s breaking, he is breaking, unable to hold it back any longer. ”He did didn’t he?” And even if she says nothing her silence says anything. ”He always talks about her but never about his own son.” Never him or his mother. The forgotten child. The one that never mattered.

    Little does he know that Magnus had once come close to spilling it all. That it had literally been on the tip of his tongue. But he doesn’t know this and so his anger remains, fading ever so slightly but still burning and seething inside of him. "Magnus only loves himself." Of course there's a flicker of doubt in his words but he doesnt care anymore. Too busy fighting through his sorrow that is quickly swallowing him whole, the nurse that comes to fix what the fire has done. Fights through tears and heartache as he mumbles. "If he loved you why is he not here?" The question that had been unspoken and hanging in the air, the elephant in the room. He should feel sorry but he isn't, not one bit. The truth always hurts.

    Ledger

    Reply
    #9
    Ellyse
    I'm the only one who will walk across a fire for you.
    it's only fear that makes you run, the demons that you're hiding from.
      And with the delicate swipe of a match, the flame is lit inside of him, scalding hot – and it surges and grows, swelling from within, filling him with the unfiltered heat of abandonment, heartache, and rage. He is stirred from the soft-spoken, brooding melancholy and brought forth with ferocity burning within the heaviness of his gaze, boring into her – and then his rumbling, growling voice emerges, harsh and scathing. She is unflinching, the hazel of her own eyes glowering as tension filters through her thick, heavily defined muscle.

       It provokes an involuntary reaction, as her bones stir and reshape beneath the pale, golden surface of her skin – long, curving rods of bone rise from her flesh, parting through the sinewy muscle to reveal thick, six-inch long spikes, surfacing along the ridges of her rib cage, the slope of her spine, and the broad exterior of her breastplate. Finally, a single, upward-curving horn shaped of her own bone emerges between her darkening eyes. Her adrenaline is coursing through her veins heavily, causing her heart to pound so roughly against its confinement, he is certain to hear it.

       He is furious, and nearly quaking with the rage enveloping him, and she is wary – there is a tumultuous storm inside of him, and he presses closer to her (she can feel the warmth of his breath across her cheek, kept apart by the hardened bone spike warding him from coming too close). His voice is rising with each spoken word, and she is uncertain and unfamiliar with him, with his anger – and though she would never admit to fear, apprehension is bubbling just beneath the terse, stoic surface of her feminine features. Her upper lip curling to reveal her clenched teeth, but inside, she is shaken, startled by the sheer force of the emotions effervescing within him.

       Do you see me? he asks, and she does, her steady gaze glancing between the endless intensity of his left eye and the scarred tissue of his right eye, and then traversing the length of his body, riddled with deep scarring (not an unfamiliar sight – her own King had many of his own; it hadn’t phased her then and it did not phase her now). Yet, there is anguish and shame seeping into his anger, there are so many intricate layers to his despair that she is caught breathless, her heart thrumming so loudly she can hardly process her own thoughts.

       Even when he finally rotates away from her, trembling as a deeply buried sorrow rises and spreads throughout his chest, she is quiet, wondering how she had gotten here – what would have happened if she hadn’t stopped; what would have happened if she had let him be? His voice is softer, quieter, but laced with a bitterness more poisonous than cyanide itself, with harsh, humorless laughter forced out after a rhetorical question (one she would not answer, even if he had wanted her to).  

       There are hot, burning tears staining the golden sheen of his skin, but she does not stare – averting her gaze ever so slightly to the ground. The finely preened ivory feathers that lay neatly across the broad length of her winged appendages bristle and stir – anxious for the wind beneath them, longing for the freedom and safety of the bright, bare sky above – but she does not go; not yet.

       Magnus only loves himself, he utters quietly, as what is left of his heart shatters, breaking apart into small, fragments, pooling on the dry, dusty ground that lay beneath his weight.

       And then, If he loved you, why is he not here?

       Her lungs are emptied, breathless and aching, but oxygen is too painful, too hot and unbearable for the delicate tissue within to withstand. Time seemingly comes to a grinding halt, and she can hear nothing but the pounding of her heart, or the rush of her blood surging through her veins – slowly, the thick lines of bony spikes recede into her body, leaving her bare and exposed, but what did it matter? Softly, quietly, the golden flecks of her warm hazel eyes glance up from the wavering tendrils of grain, still touching along the length of her legs, swaying to and fro in a breeze she does not even know is there.

       ”I never said that I thought he loved me,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, with a prickling of unshed tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, burning hot. ”not the way that I loved him.” And she, too, is heartbroken – heartbroken like he, for herself, for her son, for her daughters (for the one who had never known him; might never know him).

       She had been foolish enough to fall in love with him– foolish to think that she could mend what had already been broken. She had been reckless with her own heart and she was left alone, blind, groping around in the dark to desperately gather what pieces were left.

       ”Perhaps that makes me a fool, but if I had to do it over again, I would, again and again, and I am not going to defend him – he hurt you, I can see that,” her voice is quieter again. Hesitant. ”he hurt me, too - but I know that you know, deep down, that it isn’t true.”
    when all your promises are gone, I'm the only one.
    Reply
    #10

    Bound for trouble from the start
    I've been walking through this old world in the dark

    When her bones protrude from her skin, it should have shaken him. It hadn’t, so in the grips of his passionate row that he couldn’t be swayed. If he hadn’t been so angry, so emotional, he might have laughed.  Might have said, oh I have surprises too. But the bear was locked away even as it rattled it’s cage, begging to come out. Instead it all barely registers for he’s not really looking at her, not really tirading at her. They both know this.

    His heart is throbbing in his chest as he slowly comes back to reality, a rushing in his ears and he shakes his head to rid himself of his confusion. Her whispers reach him as he settles, soft words that crawl up the length of his spine and send shame coursing in it’s wake. It’s been so long since he had felt anything other than anger, for a split second he is almost himself again. And still he can’t help but respond dully, ”But you wanted him to.” A pause before he cranes his neck so his good eye could meet her shaken gaze. ”We always want him to.”  Magnus could never fully love them. Raaquel had tried, she had tried so damn hard. Ledger had tried, wanting nothing more then to just be held by his father and told everything would be ok. Deep down he is still that frightened newborn colt, swaying next to his dying mother as her murderer stole him away.

    Joelle had held his full heart and he’s heard so many stories about her, knows so much about their past and the part his mother and himself played in it even though he hadn’t been there. He hates Joelle, a ghost that haunts him just as much as it haunts his father. What did she have that none of them didn't? What made her so special? Why was she more important then any of them? It wasn't fair, she was dead. And yet she would always hold more of Magnus's affection and love then those still alive, still desperate and willing to do anything for just a taste of what she had gotten.

    None of them are ever good enough, worthy enough of Magnus’s full heart. Her hesitant words are almost soothing and he stares at the ground before him, stares at nothing. Almost catatonic. Did he believe her? He merely rolls his shoulders, a small shrug. ”Perhaps. I just don’t think he’s capable of it.” How can you love anyone if you can’t love yourself? Maybe Ledger was the lucky one. He had always known he was broken. At least he had never dragged anyone down with him.

    ” I am sorry Ellyse.” The regret has taken hold of him now and he continues to stare numbly ahead of him into the purple shadows of the moors in the distance. He can say nothing more, fractured and raw in front of her. Worn out. Exhausted. And most of all, depressed.

    Ledger

    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)