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+---- Thread: how strange, to be anything at all; any (/showthread.php?tid=24094)
how strange, to be anything at all; any - Ophanim - 06-19-2019
OPHANIM
He kissed each of his brood goodbye and told them he had to leave for a while. Ophanim doesn’t want them to see him like this, depthless black like the singularity pit of a miserable black hole. He’s been gone for hours, perhaps days at this point but he isn’t so good at keeping track for the time being. His sons and daughters loved to visit him in the meadows or the rivers where they could curl beneath his wings and play but now he is alone. For a flickering moment, he considered returning to his prison in Sylva and scorching their trees but it seemed like a great deal of effort.
He just wants to stand in the river, right now.
He lets his wings droop into the cool waters and watches as a loose feather floats away from him, bleeding back to its original golden color as it bobs along the surface. Anger isn’t something he’s accustomed to and he isn’t sure what to do with this burning inside his chest. It withers into sadness here and there as he reminds himself that everything wrong right now is entirely his fault – Sylva, Starsin, all of it. But he loves his children, doesn’t he? He tries his best to teach them right from wrong and he hugs them close when they’re frightened.
But the rest of life isn’t quite so easy as that. Self-doubt comes creeping in whenever he’s alone and he wonders how anyone could love him at all. Ophie lowers his head to watch his reflection shudder and flicker in the water but the face never quite matches him anymore. His halo and the lines across his face burn bright as ever but he wonders if he should have remained the boy he was born as – simple and content. It’s far too late to turn back time now, though, he tells himself as he scans the river for anything else to focus on besides this pity party.
His long legs carry him easily against the water’s current as it splashes against his dark chest. An occasional fish clumsily bumps into his legs and he smiles weakly as they quickly dart away from him. Ophanim comes to a stop beneath the shade of an old tree overhanging the water, admiring the glimmering scales of the fish resting here beside him. The autumn sun is still warm beyond this patch of shade and he briefly wonders why they don’t seek it out instead. But then, why doesn’t he?
He just wants to stand in the river, right now.
He lets his wings droop into the cool waters and watches as a loose feather floats away from him, bleeding back to its original golden color as it bobs along the surface. Anger isn’t something he’s accustomed to and he isn’t sure what to do with this burning inside his chest. It withers into sadness here and there as he reminds himself that everything wrong right now is entirely his fault – Sylva, Starsin, all of it. But he loves his children, doesn’t he? He tries his best to teach them right from wrong and he hugs them close when they’re frightened.
But the rest of life isn’t quite so easy as that. Self-doubt comes creeping in whenever he’s alone and he wonders how anyone could love him at all. Ophie lowers his head to watch his reflection shudder and flicker in the water but the face never quite matches him anymore. His halo and the lines across his face burn bright as ever but he wonders if he should have remained the boy he was born as – simple and content. It’s far too late to turn back time now, though, he tells himself as he scans the river for anything else to focus on besides this pity party.
His long legs carry him easily against the water’s current as it splashes against his dark chest. An occasional fish clumsily bumps into his legs and he smiles weakly as they quickly dart away from him. Ophanim comes to a stop beneath the shade of an old tree overhanging the water, admiring the glimmering scales of the fish resting here beside him. The autumn sun is still warm beyond this patch of shade and he briefly wonders why they don’t seek it out instead. But then, why doesn’t he?
you could drown in those eyes, i said.
RE: how strange, to be anything at all; any - adna - 06-19-2019
and if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones
‘cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs
adna
we're setting fire to our insides for fun
collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home
@[Ophanim]
RE: how strange, to be anything at all; any - Ophanim - 06-19-2019
OPHANIM
He wishes his other children would come closer when he is alone in Loess. He knows Rupture and Bela are part of his brood and his heart aches to snatch them up in his loving embrace. They’re beautiful and strong, or maybe he’s just biased because he loves them so. Ophanim wants to tell her these things whenever he sees her in the distance but he remains close to the children who already know him. He stays close to Starsin.
His ear swivels back when he hears her approaching but he doesn’t pay much attention at first. The fish idly nibble at the detritus caught in the light feathering around his hooves and he doesn’t want to disturb them. Some take cover in the shelter of his wings and he wonders if he could stay forever like this – a safe haven for them. For once, he could keep something safe instead of breaking it apart. All his well made plans before this only served to tear his life apart, though they seemed perfect at the time. Defend his home, love his wife, and father children like his sire before him. It all looked like the natural order of things.
But then, why didn’t it work out?
He slowly, carefully lifts his head as the ink black fades back to gold and snow white little by little. Ophanim turns his head and watches as Adna slowly lowers her gaze like she might disappear any second. The angel boy feels his brows furrow and he wades his way back to the shore so he can pull himself up onto dry ground, dripping and cold in the autumn chill. Maybe he shouldn’t approach her. Maybe he ought to just go back to Sylva and find some way to amuse himself there until his sentence is carried out.
“Hello, Adna. I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I guess I’ve.. really made a mess of things,” he says with a laugh, but the sound comes out all bent and distorted so it sounds more sad than anything joyous. “I’m sorry for.. a lot of things, I think. They all seemed like good choices but all I’ve done is hurt people. I really don’t like hurting anyone, you know.”
And it’s the truth. Even when he was tearing down half of Tephra with his fire, the pit of his stomach was in knots. But he’d still destroyed her mother’s home and given her two children without a father. His bright blue eyes find the ground between them as he slowly turns black once more.
His ear swivels back when he hears her approaching but he doesn’t pay much attention at first. The fish idly nibble at the detritus caught in the light feathering around his hooves and he doesn’t want to disturb them. Some take cover in the shelter of his wings and he wonders if he could stay forever like this – a safe haven for them. For once, he could keep something safe instead of breaking it apart. All his well made plans before this only served to tear his life apart, though they seemed perfect at the time. Defend his home, love his wife, and father children like his sire before him. It all looked like the natural order of things.
But then, why didn’t it work out?
He slowly, carefully lifts his head as the ink black fades back to gold and snow white little by little. Ophanim turns his head and watches as Adna slowly lowers her gaze like she might disappear any second. The angel boy feels his brows furrow and he wades his way back to the shore so he can pull himself up onto dry ground, dripping and cold in the autumn chill. Maybe he shouldn’t approach her. Maybe he ought to just go back to Sylva and find some way to amuse himself there until his sentence is carried out.
“Hello, Adna. I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I guess I’ve.. really made a mess of things,” he says with a laugh, but the sound comes out all bent and distorted so it sounds more sad than anything joyous. “I’m sorry for.. a lot of things, I think. They all seemed like good choices but all I’ve done is hurt people. I really don’t like hurting anyone, you know.”
And it’s the truth. Even when he was tearing down half of Tephra with his fire, the pit of his stomach was in knots. But he’d still destroyed her mother’s home and given her two children without a father. His bright blue eyes find the ground between them as he slowly turns black once more.
you could drown in those eyes, i said.
RE: how strange, to be anything at all; any - adna - 06-19-2019
and if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones
‘cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs
adna
we're setting fire to our insides for fun
collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home
@[Ophanim]
RE: how strange, to be anything at all; any - Ophanim - 06-20-2019
OPHANIM
He listens when she speaks and the hurt is evident across his face but he says nothing to stop her. The angel boy just lets her lash out and he takes every bit of it, keeps her anger for himself. Ophanim was never good at being serious and he never wanted to become strong or powerful. In fact, he never really wanted much of anything except friends to keep him company. He lifts his gaze when she’s finished and the apologies come flowing in, watching with his bright blue eyes as she wilts.
“You’re right to be angry, Adna. My son almost died in Loess and I wasn’t there for him. I was burning down Tephra instead,” he says this time without a laugh to steady himself. He remembers seeing all the fresh scars across his son’s tiny body when he came home. He remembers the look of terror across the small boy’s face when Ophanim was bleeding out onto the ground. But how many others have a story just like his now? Can their wives still look at them the same after what they’ve done? He wonders if they feel like monsters or if he is alone even in this.
He steps forward and presses his lips to Adna’s forehead in forgiveness, maybe for her or maybe for himself. There’s no telling at this point and he’s stopped trying to untangle the mess he’s made of his life. “I don’t really know who I’m meant to be either. I don’t want to keep hurting people, but then how can I keep my children safe?” He turns his body so their shoulders are pressed lightly together and he rests his chin over her neck. The fire in his chest still calls for blood but he doesn’t know what to do with all of it. For now, he just pushes it down and lets it smolder in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m not a clever man, Adna. I don’t know a lot of things, but I’m absolutely certain that you are better than you think,” he says as he watches the river continue to flow lazily before them. He keeps his wings tucked tight to his sides but for a moment he considers hugging her close with them. Things are a mess enough as it is, though.
“You’re right to be angry, Adna. My son almost died in Loess and I wasn’t there for him. I was burning down Tephra instead,” he says this time without a laugh to steady himself. He remembers seeing all the fresh scars across his son’s tiny body when he came home. He remembers the look of terror across the small boy’s face when Ophanim was bleeding out onto the ground. But how many others have a story just like his now? Can their wives still look at them the same after what they’ve done? He wonders if they feel like monsters or if he is alone even in this.
He steps forward and presses his lips to Adna’s forehead in forgiveness, maybe for her or maybe for himself. There’s no telling at this point and he’s stopped trying to untangle the mess he’s made of his life. “I don’t really know who I’m meant to be either. I don’t want to keep hurting people, but then how can I keep my children safe?” He turns his body so their shoulders are pressed lightly together and he rests his chin over her neck. The fire in his chest still calls for blood but he doesn’t know what to do with all of it. For now, he just pushes it down and lets it smolder in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m not a clever man, Adna. I don’t know a lot of things, but I’m absolutely certain that you are better than you think,” he says as he watches the river continue to flow lazily before them. He keeps his wings tucked tight to his sides but for a moment he considers hugging her close with them. Things are a mess enough as it is, though.
you could drown in those eyes, i said.
RE: how strange, to be anything at all; any - adna - 07-06-2019
and if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones
‘cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs
adna
we're setting fire to our insides for fun
collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home
@[Ophanim]
RE: how strange, to be anything at all; any - Ophanim - 07-18-2019
OPHANIM
He has never been on a first name basis with anger and so he doesn’t feel any semblance of rage ignite within him when she bared her teeth. Ophanim is a perfect little punching bag who smiles with a busted lip and says thank you. The angel boy learned at a young age that the loneliness he and Adna feel is a fracture that will never heal quite right. Like a crooked bone set all wrong, it’s always there to remind them of that familiar ache even when the sun shines brightest on their faces.
He feels the quaking in her skin as all her secrets come tumbling out like rotted apples for him to eat. But he doesn’t step back or sneer in disgust. His embrace just grows a little tighter and he sighs weakly against the tangles of her mane as she speaks of hunger that would consume this planet if it only could. Though they do not share this same curse, he ears a similar burden in that his heart is a bottomless pit that can never know satisfaction. It just waits for more love to be poured hopelessly into it.
“You are not your hunger. You are not the things you’ve done or will do,” he whispers so delicately against her ear. He closes those bright blue eyes and smiles like he hasn’t slept in centuries. “You are Adna, capable of as much good as you are evil.”
The idea of her harming someone or something on purpose is foreign to him and the image can’t form clearly in his mind. Maybe she’s tasted blood and found it to her liking. If she did, would he still call her his friend after learning that violence disgusts him? Ophanim likes to think he would but he doesn’t delve too deeply into it for now.
“I just like to think of you as my friend. I don’t need anything beyond that, really.”
He pulls his head back only to lightly bump her cheek with his nose, leaving it there for a few moments longer as he seems to consider saying more.
He feels the quaking in her skin as all her secrets come tumbling out like rotted apples for him to eat. But he doesn’t step back or sneer in disgust. His embrace just grows a little tighter and he sighs weakly against the tangles of her mane as she speaks of hunger that would consume this planet if it only could. Though they do not share this same curse, he ears a similar burden in that his heart is a bottomless pit that can never know satisfaction. It just waits for more love to be poured hopelessly into it.
“You are not your hunger. You are not the things you’ve done or will do,” he whispers so delicately against her ear. He closes those bright blue eyes and smiles like he hasn’t slept in centuries. “You are Adna, capable of as much good as you are evil.”
The idea of her harming someone or something on purpose is foreign to him and the image can’t form clearly in his mind. Maybe she’s tasted blood and found it to her liking. If she did, would he still call her his friend after learning that violence disgusts him? Ophanim likes to think he would but he doesn’t delve too deeply into it for now.
“I just like to think of you as my friend. I don’t need anything beyond that, really.”
He pulls his head back only to lightly bump her cheek with his nose, leaving it there for a few moments longer as he seems to consider saying more.
you could drown in those eyes, i said.