08-05-2021, 02:33 PM
Ryatah
There is a certain kind of tension in Hyaline now, and it seeps even to her carved out corners, filling it like faint smoke.
Almost able to be ignored, but nagging and incessant enough that it eventually demanded attention.
It was as if the land was pulled taut like the strings of a bow, quivering and anxious, though the target seemed to be invisible — nothing in particular that it was aimed at, and perhaps that only added to the chaotic undercurrent of it all.
She could feel it, though; a strange kind of trembling heartbeat in the earth, a shuddering breath of the summer breeze.
At the epicenter, there seemed to be Gale and Mazikeen, their fire-and-gasoline dynamic radiating in waves across the kingdom, enough that it drew her from her own rather self-centered world. It was a rare thing for her to look up from her own romances and turmoils, but as it is, she is currently adrift in a beautiful lull. Her heart, once scattered into pieces, had slowly regenerated into what felt like something entirely new; something made for Atrox, a heart that was almost whole rather than fractured and splintered like bone.
A heart and soul that was only his, save for the single piece long-buried somewhere else.
She is alone when she walks to the lakeshore, the stardust of her wings glittering in the waning light, leaving behind a shimmering trail where some of it has drifted to the ground behind her. With impossibly dark eyes she stares out at the expanse of water, at the mountain peaks that currently sit backlit by a setting sun. It was strange to have been here for so long after so many years of being unmoored and lost; even stranger still that it was Atrox she anchored herself to, and that this was the place they settled on being theirs.
Pale and lucent, she stands stark against the dying day, unmoving, but listening.
Almost able to be ignored, but nagging and incessant enough that it eventually demanded attention.
It was as if the land was pulled taut like the strings of a bow, quivering and anxious, though the target seemed to be invisible — nothing in particular that it was aimed at, and perhaps that only added to the chaotic undercurrent of it all.
She could feel it, though; a strange kind of trembling heartbeat in the earth, a shuddering breath of the summer breeze.
At the epicenter, there seemed to be Gale and Mazikeen, their fire-and-gasoline dynamic radiating in waves across the kingdom, enough that it drew her from her own rather self-centered world. It was a rare thing for her to look up from her own romances and turmoils, but as it is, she is currently adrift in a beautiful lull. Her heart, once scattered into pieces, had slowly regenerated into what felt like something entirely new; something made for Atrox, a heart that was almost whole rather than fractured and splintered like bone.
A heart and soul that was only his, save for the single piece long-buried somewhere else.
She is alone when she walks to the lakeshore, the stardust of her wings glittering in the waning light, leaving behind a shimmering trail where some of it has drifted to the ground behind her. With impossibly dark eyes she stares out at the expanse of water, at the mountain peaks that currently sit backlit by a setting sun. It was strange to have been here for so long after so many years of being unmoored and lost; even stranger still that it was Atrox she anchored herself to, and that this was the place they settled on being theirs.
Pale and lucent, she stands stark against the dying day, unmoving, but listening.
EVEN ANGELS HAVE THEIR WICKED SCHEMES
i dont know what this is, i just felt like writing her. you cant tell since it didnt even turn out good though.