01-11-2021, 07:26 PM
stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;
better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
Her answer is not what he had been hoping for, and a frown pulls his navy lips downward. It would have made things easier if Islas had explained the absence of the daylight and starlight and moonlight. He could have handled the pressing darkness if she could have reassured him that it would end one day, that the sun would warm their backs and bring color to their eyes again. But she can’t tell him these things; though he is grateful for her honesty, Tiercel feels fear squirm into a tightly-coiled knot in the pit of his stomach.
Her emotions temporarily draw his attention away from the clamoring voices of his own. Islas’s void — her feelings as hollow and empty as the sky above them — had drawn him in all those years ago. Yet as her pale sides begin to swell as their child grows, Tiercel can sense the flickering of her emotions from within that darkness. She is like the beginning of a stained-glass window set into an echoing, lonely cathedral. When the sun shines on the colors it casts faintly-glowing shapes against the stone walls to bring life, but a cloudy day brings only shadows and bitter cold.
He wonders if his consistent presence has stirred her awake, a metaphorical hand of feeling stirring the mixing bowl of her soul until the hidden colors of emotion bring themselves to the surface. Or is it the child growing within her? Does it push against her insides until she is forced to experience the mosaic of sentiments that must have lain dormant from deep within? Tiercel’s eyes find the shadows in hers, where the purple fades into darkness that mirrors their world. Perhaps the endless night has coaxed the feelings from her. Have the absence of the stars pulled humanity into her cold chest?
But as he looks into her gaze and as his peripherals catch the faint glow of her skin, Tiercel is certain that this starless dark is not good for Islas. Could she fade away, as the stars have? Concern nestles its prickling head against fear, and Tiercel’s blue eyes flash with these emotions and more.
She is asking him about the things, whatever they may be. The creatures that he hears, the clatter of claws on rock and the snarl of teeth and drool in the shadows. His gaze finds the darkness, which seems to press closer to them with Islas’s starglow keeping their tight, nervous faces illuminated. Shifting his weight to pull her closer to his side, Tiercel takes what manufactured peace he can and drapes a heavier layer across their home. It doesn’t scare the darkness from their ankles, but he feels slightly more settled beneath its weight.
“I haven’t seen them, but I hear them.” Tiercel’s mouth finds her face again, where he traces the line of her jaw. “But I’ll protect you with my life if it comes to it.” She — of galaxies and emptiness and simplicity — and their child — a faceless, nameless infant nestled in the arms of her womb — are worth it to him. And even though he had scratched jagged lines through his family’s names on his heart, Tiercel wonders if he is beginning to understand what they had meant to each other.
Ever so gently, he places a trail of kisses from the curve of her ear down the pale slope of her throat. “I’m worried about you, Islas… How are you feeling?”
Her emotions temporarily draw his attention away from the clamoring voices of his own. Islas’s void — her feelings as hollow and empty as the sky above them — had drawn him in all those years ago. Yet as her pale sides begin to swell as their child grows, Tiercel can sense the flickering of her emotions from within that darkness. She is like the beginning of a stained-glass window set into an echoing, lonely cathedral. When the sun shines on the colors it casts faintly-glowing shapes against the stone walls to bring life, but a cloudy day brings only shadows and bitter cold.
He wonders if his consistent presence has stirred her awake, a metaphorical hand of feeling stirring the mixing bowl of her soul until the hidden colors of emotion bring themselves to the surface. Or is it the child growing within her? Does it push against her insides until she is forced to experience the mosaic of sentiments that must have lain dormant from deep within? Tiercel’s eyes find the shadows in hers, where the purple fades into darkness that mirrors their world. Perhaps the endless night has coaxed the feelings from her. Have the absence of the stars pulled humanity into her cold chest?
But as he looks into her gaze and as his peripherals catch the faint glow of her skin, Tiercel is certain that this starless dark is not good for Islas. Could she fade away, as the stars have? Concern nestles its prickling head against fear, and Tiercel’s blue eyes flash with these emotions and more.
She is asking him about the things, whatever they may be. The creatures that he hears, the clatter of claws on rock and the snarl of teeth and drool in the shadows. His gaze finds the darkness, which seems to press closer to them with Islas’s starglow keeping their tight, nervous faces illuminated. Shifting his weight to pull her closer to his side, Tiercel takes what manufactured peace he can and drapes a heavier layer across their home. It doesn’t scare the darkness from their ankles, but he feels slightly more settled beneath its weight.
“I haven’t seen them, but I hear them.” Tiercel’s mouth finds her face again, where he traces the line of her jaw. “But I’ll protect you with my life if it comes to it.” She — of galaxies and emptiness and simplicity — and their child — a faceless, nameless infant nestled in the arms of her womb — are worth it to him. And even though he had scratched jagged lines through his family’s names on his heart, Tiercel wonders if he is beginning to understand what they had meant to each other.
Ever so gently, he places a trail of kisses from the curve of her ear down the pale slope of her throat. “I’m worried about you, Islas… How are you feeling?”
tiercel.
@[Islas]