02-28-2018, 10:31 AM
Khaedrik crept through the unrelenting sunshine, and today there was no warmth in him – today he was but cold as the universe around him, and lonely. He misses his sister, though Khaedrik would never understand such a feeling. Khaedrik was not a creature of emotion and longing. He was strange and fickle; he was made of lunacy and shadows and his bolide-eyes held nothing but consuming delusion. He would perhaps never understand it, but he was only whole standing in her shadow.
In hoarse and whispered voices, others might call him mad, might speak of his delusional infatuation with shadows. But not she, never his dreamer-sister, balancing so neatly on the line between the worlds that was hers and not hers. She is his, inexorably, spun into his soul from the very first day that he lived. His body still bears the last remaining marks of a childhood he´s forsaken. He has seen how she sometimes slips away from Hyaline, unseen – unnoticed, by any but his own keen eyes. But today she is here - he can feel her smell on the wind. He forced himself through the thick air; felt it wet and grating against his golden flesh, and made his way to her. Even with his eyes squeezed shut against the blinding, aching sunlight; he knows his way, across their home. But he was not deterred. He felt her, always there, like a spider-web on his heart, gossamer as nothing else, catching flies for him to feed on. He lived off this feeling, was soothed by it in her absence. Today he would not have to miss her though; today they would be together.
There is something off about her though – and his shadows take pause halfway, virulent darkness floating on the air between them. Khaedrik´s sensitive nose twists – she reeks of something unfamiliar (ruination?) but Khaedrik is too young, too strange to understand that part of his sisters life. Perhaps he never will. But there is a strange distress about her, and as she invites him to walk with her, he doesn’t question her motives. His golden shoulder, still small and scrawny, presses against the motley of her skin as she spills her secrets to his waiting ears.
”You are my light” he says, simply. He has no comfort to give; for he fights the same battle – and if she cannot keep herself bound to the light – then how can he? His shadows curl around them, shrouding brother and sister in darkness until they are unseen by any and all who might wander the forest tonight, a quiet reminder of who they are.
”Why must we always fight it?” and there is defiance, haughty and bitter in the lilt of his voice. He understands and yet he does not – for he has long since yielded to his darkness, but he longs to annihilate that which troubles her mind – whatever it may be.
”You…smell different” he remarks – as if that foreign smell might have something to do with her plight.
@[Kagerus]