09-21-2021, 05:17 PM
YOU'RE WALKING IN THE SHADOWS OF YOUR FEAR AND YOU'RE HEADED
FOR THE GALLOWS, SIN AROUND YOUR THROAT AND NO ONE'S NEAR
FOR THE GALLOWS, SIN AROUND YOUR THROAT AND NO ONE'S NEAR
He does not know that she blames the changes in her on him, and even if he did know, would he deny it? Would he be able to confidently say that he did not have the ability to generate such a change? He does not fully understand the depths of his curse, but he is certain that there is nothing good that comes from being in his presence. Would it really be so far-fetched to think that he, dark and treacherous, did not have the ability to turn everything she sees to bone, to force a certain kind of misery on her simply because he could?
It is for the best (for him) that he does not know, though, because surely the guilt would eat him alive. No matter how hard the monster inside of him tried to consume him there were parts of him that it simply would never be able to touch—the parts of him that would always set him apart from the other dark things that called this forest home. There was still a heart in his chest, connected to a conscience that sometimes he wishes he could drown out, but he also knows it is the only thing keeping him tethered.
If he had known that she thought he had inflicted any kind of damage on her he would not have called for her when he saw her. He would have disappeared back into the shadows, let her live in whatever peace she could find without him hindering it.
And it would have been for the best, for her, if he had known all of that, because it would have kept him from closing the distance that existed between them the way that he does now.
“They are still wrong, yes,” he tells her as he slips closer, trying to ignore the anxiety that ripples off her in subtle waves. It makes something inside of him clench, makes him want to see what else he can coax from her, but he resists. “Along with all the other things that are still wrong with me.” The bitterness is mostly lost in the shadow-like chords of his voice, as he has moved past the self-loathing stage and begrudgingly accepted that this is the fate forced upon him. It was still there though, that anger, settled in his very bones and sparking to life at odd moments, such as now.
But he is still at his heart the blue roan boy born in Taiga, the boy that never would have forced his hurt onto anyone else. She is already wary of him, and he does not want to give her further reason to disappear into her own shadows, and so he ensures that whatever anger he feels, even though it was directed at himself, never reaches his tongue.
He remains stoic and impassive, and very carefully, he drains just some of that anxiety from her—enough to possibly dull her edge, to maybe see what she is like when she is not afraid of him.
His eyes again focus on the sunlight that haloes her head in its warmth, before looking back to her with another crooked smile.“You should be careful bringing light into the dark. You might attract something you weren’t looking for.” He steps into the water with her now, the shadows that make up his legs seeming to recoil away from it, the tendrils of his tail floating on the surface like oil. He watches the galaxy marking on her shoulder, notices the way the light of her halo brings out the gold of her skin—night sky and sunshine, all rolled into one. “Or maybe you’ll find exactly what you were looking for.” There is a subtle tilting of his head, and a strange softness to his now lowered voice when he asks her, “What were you looking for out here, Beryl?”
It is for the best (for him) that he does not know, though, because surely the guilt would eat him alive. No matter how hard the monster inside of him tried to consume him there were parts of him that it simply would never be able to touch—the parts of him that would always set him apart from the other dark things that called this forest home. There was still a heart in his chest, connected to a conscience that sometimes he wishes he could drown out, but he also knows it is the only thing keeping him tethered.
If he had known that she thought he had inflicted any kind of damage on her he would not have called for her when he saw her. He would have disappeared back into the shadows, let her live in whatever peace she could find without him hindering it.
And it would have been for the best, for her, if he had known all of that, because it would have kept him from closing the distance that existed between them the way that he does now.
“They are still wrong, yes,” he tells her as he slips closer, trying to ignore the anxiety that ripples off her in subtle waves. It makes something inside of him clench, makes him want to see what else he can coax from her, but he resists. “Along with all the other things that are still wrong with me.” The bitterness is mostly lost in the shadow-like chords of his voice, as he has moved past the self-loathing stage and begrudgingly accepted that this is the fate forced upon him. It was still there though, that anger, settled in his very bones and sparking to life at odd moments, such as now.
But he is still at his heart the blue roan boy born in Taiga, the boy that never would have forced his hurt onto anyone else. She is already wary of him, and he does not want to give her further reason to disappear into her own shadows, and so he ensures that whatever anger he feels, even though it was directed at himself, never reaches his tongue.
He remains stoic and impassive, and very carefully, he drains just some of that anxiety from her—enough to possibly dull her edge, to maybe see what she is like when she is not afraid of him.
His eyes again focus on the sunlight that haloes her head in its warmth, before looking back to her with another crooked smile.“You should be careful bringing light into the dark. You might attract something you weren’t looking for.” He steps into the water with her now, the shadows that make up his legs seeming to recoil away from it, the tendrils of his tail floating on the surface like oil. He watches the galaxy marking on her shoulder, notices the way the light of her halo brings out the gold of her skin—night sky and sunshine, all rolled into one. “Or maybe you’ll find exactly what you were looking for.” There is a subtle tilting of his head, and a strange softness to his now lowered voice when he asks her, “What were you looking for out here, Beryl?”
T O R R Y N
@Beryl