01-31-2021, 05:43 PM
kensley
i swore the days were over of courting empty dreams
He does not fear the darkness.
He has seen death, he has crawled through its depths, he has emerged changed.
Death lives within him now, like disease. It will not release him, no matter how desperately he wishes it would. This is his cross to bear, his price to pay, and he will accept the suffering.
Life has not been kind to him.
He has strayed so far from the light, the softness of his childhood. He cannot remember now where it all went wrong, where it all fell apart. He cannot remember now when the heart started to break or what cracked it in the first place.
He cannot imagine a kind life but there is some part of him that is relieved to hear that her life has been kind. She’s right, he has no concept of old age either. He had aged, certainly. Until he had inherited his sister’s immortality at the cost of her life. Until death had found him and time could no longer touch him.
He offers up a rueful smile (such a foreign sensation after the heart had been frozen so long that he had forgotten what it meant to be moved by emotion) and shakes his head. “No,” he affirms, “unfortunately I don’t.”
He does not know what it is that compels him to go on speaking, but he shifts his weight and turns his focus to the river, just barely visible through the crushing darkness. “I would give almost anything to know what old age meant,” he confesses and then rolls his shoulders, barely disturbing the frost that had begun to spread across his flesh after the Alliance. “To feel it. To feel anything.”
He has seen death, he has crawled through its depths, he has emerged changed.
Death lives within him now, like disease. It will not release him, no matter how desperately he wishes it would. This is his cross to bear, his price to pay, and he will accept the suffering.
Life has not been kind to him.
He has strayed so far from the light, the softness of his childhood. He cannot remember now where it all went wrong, where it all fell apart. He cannot remember now when the heart started to break or what cracked it in the first place.
He cannot imagine a kind life but there is some part of him that is relieved to hear that her life has been kind. She’s right, he has no concept of old age either. He had aged, certainly. Until he had inherited his sister’s immortality at the cost of her life. Until death had found him and time could no longer touch him.
He offers up a rueful smile (such a foreign sensation after the heart had been frozen so long that he had forgotten what it meant to be moved by emotion) and shakes his head. “No,” he affirms, “unfortunately I don’t.”
He does not know what it is that compels him to go on speaking, but he shifts his weight and turns his focus to the river, just barely visible through the crushing darkness. “I would give almost anything to know what old age meant,” he confesses and then rolls his shoulders, barely disturbing the frost that had begun to spread across his flesh after the Alliance. “To feel it. To feel anything.”
i worshipped at the altar of losing everything
@[City]