01-20-2021, 03:01 AM
You think I'll be the Dark Sky so you can be the Star?
I'll Swallow you Whole.
I'll Swallow you Whole.
When he says that he is happy here, with her, she is surprised at the feeling that floods her. It feels like relief, like a weight she had not realized was suddenly lifted from her chest. It had not occurred to her in the beginning that he likely had no intention of staying in Loess, and once the idea had struck her that he was only staying on her behalf it had become impossible to shake loose. The longer the flood of emotions coursed through her, the more the idea of keeping him here—a place he had always avoided—had begun to bother her.
How selfish this newfound emotional, mortal part of her could be, though; to hear him say that he did not mind being here, to know that she did not have to give him up back to the wilds quite yet.
To know, even further past the darkness and the hollowness of her chest, that even eaten alive by guilt she would have been reluctant to let him go regardless.
She was not accustomed to caring—or even noticing—if someone was near. Over the course of the years her path has crossed with many, but no one’s presence has had such a profound impact as Tiercel.
She doesn’t believe in fate; doesn’t believe in the magic of the universe that many try to plant into ordinary happenings. But she does often wonder if it meant anything at all that her star had chosen to fall directly in his path.
Her response does not come in words, though, but instead is spoken in the uncoiling of her muscles and the release of a small sigh against his shoulder. The feel of his mouth pressed into her side, and the rush of love that pours from him and into her compounds with her own turmoil of emotion, and she tilts her pale head just enough to regard him with her purple-black eyes. Her face, usually so unreadable, and almost marble-like, is suddenly alive with all of the things that keep flashing through her; the amazement that this is the same boy she had met in the meadow so many years ago, and the realization that he, and the life they had created together, had given her something after all of these years to anchor her to earth.
“You already take care of me, Tiercel,” she reassures him with another press of her lips into the slope of his shoulder, even though he gives voice to the worries that already exist inside of her. She knows the longer the stars are gone the weaker she feels, and there may have been a time when she would not have cared what happened to her (how often had she wondered, after all, if dying was the trick to get back to the sky?), but over the course of the last few months, everything had changed. She had something to live for, now, a purpose to her existence beyond being a fallen star.
She does not tell him that she does not think he will find the stars; she does not say that she doesn’t think he should go out into this dark searching for things that are lost in a way that not even she can find them, even though she speaks their language. She does not raise her doubts at all, and instead, she presses closer to his side, and tells him in a way that suggests he cannot change her mind, “If you go anywhere, then I’m going with you.”
How selfish this newfound emotional, mortal part of her could be, though; to hear him say that he did not mind being here, to know that she did not have to give him up back to the wilds quite yet.
To know, even further past the darkness and the hollowness of her chest, that even eaten alive by guilt she would have been reluctant to let him go regardless.
She was not accustomed to caring—or even noticing—if someone was near. Over the course of the years her path has crossed with many, but no one’s presence has had such a profound impact as Tiercel.
She doesn’t believe in fate; doesn’t believe in the magic of the universe that many try to plant into ordinary happenings. But she does often wonder if it meant anything at all that her star had chosen to fall directly in his path.
Her response does not come in words, though, but instead is spoken in the uncoiling of her muscles and the release of a small sigh against his shoulder. The feel of his mouth pressed into her side, and the rush of love that pours from him and into her compounds with her own turmoil of emotion, and she tilts her pale head just enough to regard him with her purple-black eyes. Her face, usually so unreadable, and almost marble-like, is suddenly alive with all of the things that keep flashing through her; the amazement that this is the same boy she had met in the meadow so many years ago, and the realization that he, and the life they had created together, had given her something after all of these years to anchor her to earth.
“You already take care of me, Tiercel,” she reassures him with another press of her lips into the slope of his shoulder, even though he gives voice to the worries that already exist inside of her. She knows the longer the stars are gone the weaker she feels, and there may have been a time when she would not have cared what happened to her (how often had she wondered, after all, if dying was the trick to get back to the sky?), but over the course of the last few months, everything had changed. She had something to live for, now, a purpose to her existence beyond being a fallen star.
She does not tell him that she does not think he will find the stars; she does not say that she doesn’t think he should go out into this dark searching for things that are lost in a way that not even she can find them, even though she speaks their language. She does not raise her doubts at all, and instead, she presses closer to his side, and tells him in a way that suggests he cannot change her mind, “If you go anywhere, then I’m going with you.”
Islas
@[Tiercel]