[open] we watch galaxies collide - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Forest (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=73) +---- Thread: [open] we watch galaxies collide (/showthread.php?tid=30779) |
we watch galaxies collide - aios - 02-27-2022 jupiter's by my side and we watch galaxies collide Here she was: my apathy is losing ground RE: we watch galaxies collide - Tumult - 02-27-2022 T U M U L T He had changed, and with the change he knew less who he was than before. He has always been a thing made of storms—colored like churning clouds, wings dark with thunder and dripping with rain. When he had dreamt that he could control storms it had not been entirely surprising, for what else would a man made of storms dream of? It was not the dream itself that changed him, but rather, the physical changes that happened upon waking from the dream. That he awoke flickering with lightning. That he could touch things and send a ripple of shock into it, like his body had become electrified. He dreamt he could control storms, and he awoke changed, only still not in the way he needed to be. The storms he conjured remained difficult to control. There was nothing that he could create that remained within his grasp, always spinning from his control, his clouds blown away by the wind. It was a frustrating thing, to dream what you thought you always wanted, to awaken with something yet it was still not what you needed. It felt like a taunt, and considering the source of the change—a task completed for a man, a god, that he didn’t know—he now can only think himself a fool. He wants to go back to the mountain, to spit this magic back into the hole he had dug it from, but he does not. He clings to it stubbornly, waits every day for it to change, for him to get better at it, even if the thread of power has no anchor and he knows this is something he will never accomplish. And so when she catches his eye, the reason is obvious. She is colored like him, cloaked in fog and flickering with lightning, and his own flashes in a silent response. He recognizes her power, the way she is calling the rain, but even from where he stands she can see she has more control over it than he ever will. When the lightning glints across his face this time it is almost with jealousy, and he swallows the bitterness of it away, where it lodges somewhere in the very pit of his chest. He walks towards her, two storms rolling to meet, and instead of saying any one of things he could say, he says absolutely nothing, standing in the silence of her rain shower. CAN YOU TELL ME, WILL I BREAK OR WILL I BEND? RE: we watch galaxies collide - aios - 02-28-2022 jupiter's by my side and we watch galaxies collide Aios has never had a reason to feel jealous but if she were, it would cling to her like a second skin. She is the kind to covet. The kind to want. The kind to hold onto things with sticky fingers, with the need to possess. She wears these ugly emotions like a badge, as brightly as the beautiful ones. She has just never run across something that she has guarded so fiercely or wanted so desperately. She has never craved. my apathy is losing ground RE: we watch galaxies collide - Tumult - 03-07-2022 T U M U L T He does not wilt beneath her appraisal but instead seems to harden, his jaw clenching. He tries not to imagine all the flaws she is finding. He tries not to wonder if she can look at him and see all the things he cannot do—that he cannot shape storms to his every whim, that his wings grow useless in the sunshine, that the lightning in the clouds of his coat is only for show. As far as he can tell the most useful thing he can do is create electricity, but for one that rarely sought to bring harm to anyone else, it was a useless skill for him. Her wings shift to match his, and his gray eyes narrow as he tries to silently decipher what this means. Perhaps it is meant to be mocking; to rub salt into the wound of all that he cannot do. He realizes though, quickly, that his suspicions are not only unfounded, but unfair. She is merely a girl—younger than he is, based on the youthful brightness to her face. Not only that, but she is a stranger. His assumptions come from his own insecurities, and he wonders how low he must be to feel threatened by a young girl. And just like that, the negativity diminishes, washed away like a storm. “Aios,” he repeats her name, tasting the rain and fog of it, wrapping it in the thunder of his own voice. “My name is Tumult,” a name that speaks of chaos and clatter, when he is merely a rainstorm. “I have never met another like you,” he tells her, honestly, and it is only then that a small smile flickers across his lips, similar to the lightning. CAN YOU TELL ME, WILL I BREAK OR WILL I BEND? @aios RE: we watch galaxies collide - aios - 04-14-2022 jupiter's by my side and we watch galaxies collide She scrutinizes him openly, but not to uncover flaws or find weakness. Instead, it is a nearly scholarly activity—a way to absorb the essence of him, to try and decipher that which makes a man tick. She is worldly and yet wholly naive, a girl who does not yet know how to traverse this world on her own. For so long, Aios has lived beneath the shadow of her mother’s wing, safe to explore within the reach of her mother’s magic—but here, with him, she is exposed. She is free. Her body sings with the joy of it. my apathy is losing ground |