11-26-2018, 11:28 AM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
He starves for answers, but Wallace gives him naught. Searching glances and dismissing sighs leave him empty-handed, staring at her in hopes that there will be more, that she will sate his hunger. Tell me, he had said, but still there is so little being added to the plate. Perhaps, it is for the best, he wonders. This could be a clean slate, a new beginning, because maybe he forgot his life for a reason. It isn’t an easy theory to swallow. His jaws clench tightly together as his molten eyes dart back and forth before lifting to hers again in time to see her smile. ”Will I though?” He answers uncertainly as his head tilts to the side. ”Have I?” Wallace reassures him that it will work out, that he will be as wonderful as he has always been. His head shakes, trying to rattle loose the thoughts crowding him – the fears, the disappointments, the possibilities – but everything clutches desperately to his consciousness, not wanting to let go or let him breathe.
”I didn’t like you and I had vanished. How is that at all wonderful?” There’s a rising sharpness in his voice as his face shadows in thought. Abruptly, Tiphon swerves away from her side, turning to the canal where he can see the mainland a short ways away. There are threads of his past twisted in the seams of this world, yet he remembers almost nothing of it.
His head shakes.
His breathing quickens at first, but he controls it again.
He questions himself.
When she asks for his plan, Tiphon initially looks down to the sand, watching as it shifts beneath his weight. Life seems so content here, in this moment. Families are reuniting. They are tending to one another. For the time being, everyone is as carefree as they can be despite the plague racing across the mainland. Shrugging, he eventually turns again to look at her, the sunlight dancing across his porcelain back. ”Yes, we have healers.” He doesn’t add that it appears not enough. Something is better than nothing. ”Everyone is bringing their families here now. It’s a refuge. I’m overseer, it seems, but I’m not making a call to order until much of the chaos has subsided. Who knows. Maybe when this plague ends, this island will disappear again.” He blinks and shuffles his wings, his musings fluttering across his mind.
”We will conquer this plague first and make everyone comfortable. Once Beqanna is healed, and if this island survives, then we will figure something out.” Not him, but ‘we.’ This isn’t a dictatorship. This isn’t solely his island. With open arms, he has welcomed a multitude of others as they flee from the sickness. It’s only right that they try making decisions together, to try developing a harmonious life. ”In the meantime, I want to know everyone. I want to see the families I’m trying to help,” a small grin softens the sharp edges of his face and breaks his spell of stoicism, ”And I want to know the real you. This is only a shell of what you were.” An assumption – a bold one – but he holds onto it, hoping that he is right, hoping that there is more underneath her jaded surface.
”I didn’t like you and I had vanished. How is that at all wonderful?” There’s a rising sharpness in his voice as his face shadows in thought. Abruptly, Tiphon swerves away from her side, turning to the canal where he can see the mainland a short ways away. There are threads of his past twisted in the seams of this world, yet he remembers almost nothing of it.
His head shakes.
His breathing quickens at first, but he controls it again.
He questions himself.
When she asks for his plan, Tiphon initially looks down to the sand, watching as it shifts beneath his weight. Life seems so content here, in this moment. Families are reuniting. They are tending to one another. For the time being, everyone is as carefree as they can be despite the plague racing across the mainland. Shrugging, he eventually turns again to look at her, the sunlight dancing across his porcelain back. ”Yes, we have healers.” He doesn’t add that it appears not enough. Something is better than nothing. ”Everyone is bringing their families here now. It’s a refuge. I’m overseer, it seems, but I’m not making a call to order until much of the chaos has subsided. Who knows. Maybe when this plague ends, this island will disappear again.” He blinks and shuffles his wings, his musings fluttering across his mind.
”We will conquer this plague first and make everyone comfortable. Once Beqanna is healed, and if this island survives, then we will figure something out.” Not him, but ‘we.’ This isn’t a dictatorship. This isn’t solely his island. With open arms, he has welcomed a multitude of others as they flee from the sickness. It’s only right that they try making decisions together, to try developing a harmonious life. ”In the meantime, I want to know everyone. I want to see the families I’m trying to help,” a small grin softens the sharp edges of his face and breaks his spell of stoicism, ”And I want to know the real you. This is only a shell of what you were.” An assumption – a bold one – but he holds onto it, hoping that he is right, hoping that there is more underneath her jaded surface.
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION
@[Wallace]