04-03-2021, 03:20 PM
— and how long must I stay, will I lay by your side
just to say that I'm yours and you'll never be mine —
just to say that I'm yours and you'll never be mine —
She thinks the dark has changed her, but she can’t be sure.
Her chest aches and throbs, and there is a sorrow that has settled into her fragile bones. It flashes with pain when she thinks of Aureus and all that has transpired between them, and sometimes it twinges with such ferocity that it wakes her on the rare occasion she is asleep. It stings with the cracks that have spider-webbed across it, like a flame against her ribcage—a glass heart for a glass chest, a breakable thing enclosed inside another breakable thing.
But this is not what she blames the dark for.
She has always known she was made to be broken, has always known it was a foolish hope to think she was meant to withstand the harshness of a world made to shatter her.
There are visions, flashes of places she has never personally been to, faces she does not know that are so clear she knows she cannot possibly be dreaming. They come to her even when she is wide awake, though in this endless dark it had been easy to convince herself that perhaps she was dreaming. It was easier to accept she was dreaming than to admit that she was seeing things she should not be seeing, but the images came with such clarity how could she ignore them?
She misses the sunlight, and secretly she has begun to hope that when it returned it would chase away the visions, too.
The meadow was quiet, as it often was these days. The monsters that lurked and hunted were unavoidable, and many spoke in hushed tones to avoid detection. Hourglass had started to not care. Perhaps it was reckless, but she was tired of the dark and the fear—another reason to be afraid, another reason to wonder if this would be the way the world would end her. When she steps through the swaying grasses it is not with bravery or arrogance, but instead a muted indifference. She looks without seeing, she hears without registering the sounds; she drifts, aimless. Sweeping her lilac-colored eyes across the landscape, she makes out at the shadowed silhouette of someone nearby. Her heart jumps, foolish as always, and hope alights in her veins just enough to chase most of the sorrow away. The prospect of new friendships always brightened her, even if she had already learned the hard way that friendships could be broken—like glass.
“They’re too hard to see,” she says in a voice that even when spoken so softly still has a lilt to it, almost lyrical in the way it slips from her glass mouth. She follows his gaze up to the sky, to where the stars have remained shrouded by dark and shadow for countless days. “I know, because I’ve tried,” she continues with a small laugh, having now slowly closed the space between them, though she watches him carefully. He seemed guarded and unsure, and maybe someone with better judgement would have seen the space he left between himself and everyone else and thought perhaps it was there for a reason. But she is still too young and naive in so many ways, and she sees the emptiness and thinks only that she should try to fill it. “My name is Hourglass.”
Her chest aches and throbs, and there is a sorrow that has settled into her fragile bones. It flashes with pain when she thinks of Aureus and all that has transpired between them, and sometimes it twinges with such ferocity that it wakes her on the rare occasion she is asleep. It stings with the cracks that have spider-webbed across it, like a flame against her ribcage—a glass heart for a glass chest, a breakable thing enclosed inside another breakable thing.
But this is not what she blames the dark for.
She has always known she was made to be broken, has always known it was a foolish hope to think she was meant to withstand the harshness of a world made to shatter her.
There are visions, flashes of places she has never personally been to, faces she does not know that are so clear she knows she cannot possibly be dreaming. They come to her even when she is wide awake, though in this endless dark it had been easy to convince herself that perhaps she was dreaming. It was easier to accept she was dreaming than to admit that she was seeing things she should not be seeing, but the images came with such clarity how could she ignore them?
She misses the sunlight, and secretly she has begun to hope that when it returned it would chase away the visions, too.
The meadow was quiet, as it often was these days. The monsters that lurked and hunted were unavoidable, and many spoke in hushed tones to avoid detection. Hourglass had started to not care. Perhaps it was reckless, but she was tired of the dark and the fear—another reason to be afraid, another reason to wonder if this would be the way the world would end her. When she steps through the swaying grasses it is not with bravery or arrogance, but instead a muted indifference. She looks without seeing, she hears without registering the sounds; she drifts, aimless. Sweeping her lilac-colored eyes across the landscape, she makes out at the shadowed silhouette of someone nearby. Her heart jumps, foolish as always, and hope alights in her veins just enough to chase most of the sorrow away. The prospect of new friendships always brightened her, even if she had already learned the hard way that friendships could be broken—like glass.
“They’re too hard to see,” she says in a voice that even when spoken so softly still has a lilt to it, almost lyrical in the way it slips from her glass mouth. She follows his gaze up to the sky, to where the stars have remained shrouded by dark and shadow for countless days. “I know, because I’ve tried,” she continues with a small laugh, having now slowly closed the space between them, though she watches him carefully. He seemed guarded and unsure, and maybe someone with better judgement would have seen the space he left between himself and everyone else and thought perhaps it was there for a reason. But she is still too young and naive in so many ways, and she sees the emptiness and thinks only that she should try to fill it. “My name is Hourglass.”
hourglass
— with this love like a hole,
swallow my soul —
@[Ledger]
swallow my soul —
@[Ledger]