01-08-2021, 04:25 PM
You think I'll be the Dark Sky so you can be the Star?
I'll Swallow you Whole.
I'll Swallow you Whole.
The curtain of peace that he has hung over the cave seeps into her skin, like a balm across the panic that the absence of the stars had created. The hollowness inside of her has been sporadic as of late, and she does not know whether to blame it on the darkness or if it is a side-effect of pregnancy.
She just knows that suddenly she doesn’t feel quite so empty. The seemingly infinite abyss is now broken up with bursts of emotion, and it’s beginning to wear on nerves she never realized she had.
The emotions that he crafts, though — the peace and the calm painted on the walls — overrides the panic, and when he presses his lips to her cheek she releases a tense breath from her chest. She turns her aubergine eyes to his, as always transfixed by the blue and the depth of them; the multitudes of emotions that can flash across them in a span of seconds. “I don’t know,” she says in a way that is oddly despondent for her — another one of those sporadic waves of emotion crashing against her ribs. “Stars move, but not the way you — we — do.” She falters in the middle, unsure anymore of what she is — as if she had ever been sure.
The remnants of stardust that held her together felt as though they were fading, just as choked by the shadows as the stars in the sky.
“When I reach out it feels like there’s a...wall. Or a barrier.” There is a silence then, the air around them still full of the faded sound of her voice on the rock walls. Her gaze drifts to the opening of the cave, to where the darkness seems to grow darker (her glow, though considerably dimmer than before, still radiated a faint light) and heavier. “Have you seen them?” She asks when her face turns back to his. “The things that the darkness brought, I mean.”
She just knows that suddenly she doesn’t feel quite so empty. The seemingly infinite abyss is now broken up with bursts of emotion, and it’s beginning to wear on nerves she never realized she had.
The emotions that he crafts, though — the peace and the calm painted on the walls — overrides the panic, and when he presses his lips to her cheek she releases a tense breath from her chest. She turns her aubergine eyes to his, as always transfixed by the blue and the depth of them; the multitudes of emotions that can flash across them in a span of seconds. “I don’t know,” she says in a way that is oddly despondent for her — another one of those sporadic waves of emotion crashing against her ribs. “Stars move, but not the way you — we — do.” She falters in the middle, unsure anymore of what she is — as if she had ever been sure.
The remnants of stardust that held her together felt as though they were fading, just as choked by the shadows as the stars in the sky.
“When I reach out it feels like there’s a...wall. Or a barrier.” There is a silence then, the air around them still full of the faded sound of her voice on the rock walls. Her gaze drifts to the opening of the cave, to where the darkness seems to grow darker (her glow, though considerably dimmer than before, still radiated a faint light) and heavier. “Have you seen them?” She asks when her face turns back to his. “The things that the darkness brought, I mean.”
Islas
