12-13-2021, 03:25 PM
Este
He brings out in her such a tangle of emotions that she is not sure if they will ever unravel.
There is the thread that tells her she does not deserve him, that he is far too good for her and that someone else out there would be more worthy of his time—that it should be someone else pressed into his chest and surrounded by his darkness and his stars. But that thread is tightly woven with another one, the one that is selfish and does not want him to be with anyone else, the one that causes jealousy to spark alive in her chest at the thought of what might happen if she lets him go. It is something passed on by her mother, though she doesn’t realize it. She thinks of Ryatah as someone wholly deserving of her archangel status, as a symbol of all the things good and light in this world.
She does not know that her mother shares the same selfish tendencies, that Ryatah often thought her own heart to be just as wretched as Este thinks hers is. (Because she must be a selfish, wretched thing to feel envy when he speaks of a feather made of shadow—his shadows—gifted to her mother.)
He says that she never touched it, but the relief that she feels in learning that is quickly undone by her guilt. She knew, even though she hated admitting it, that her mother had meant something to him. That he would have only gifted her such a thing as a symbol of all the things he maybe could not or did not know how to say, and it pained her to think of how her mother did not reciprocate it. She wishes she could have been there to tell him that it did not matter what he gave her or what he said, she knew her mother would never pick anyone over Atrox. She does not think even that twisted brand of romance carved out specifically to exist with her own father stood a true chance against what was shared with the panther stallion.
It crosses her mind, not for the first time, that maybe she is some kind of consolation prize. A lesser angel, but a pretty substitute nonetheless. She should feel degraded by such a thing, but instead she only hopes that he will still keep her.
“I hope I am not like her either,” she says quietly into his skin, closing her eyes against the feeling of tears burning her throat—tears made up of too many emotions to name, all of them trying to spill over the brim of her breaking point, kept at bay only by the sheer willpower of not wanting to fall apart entirely in front of him. “I don’t want to be apart from you,” another soft-spoken confession, her lips still tracing a mindless path across his shoulder. She can’t help but to smile at what he says about Mazikeen chasing him out, breathing out a short laugh before saying, “She won’t chase you out for visiting for a few days.”
The second half of his statement causes her to go quiet, though, and she finds herself untangling from his embrace enough so that she might look at his face. “You would want me to go to Taiga with you?” Confusion shadows her face, but there is also a gentle kind of wonder, an amazement at the idea that anyone would want her to stay. But the idea of leaving behind Sela and her other siblings that live here, and even Atrox, has her feeling hesitant. “You would get tired of me if I went with you,” she finally says, quiet and downhearted.
Her soft brown eyes look out again to the lake, to the glassy surface and the stars that reflect so clearly they look as though Illum had placed them there. “I’m not ready to sleep yet,” and she turns her gaze from stars on the water and back to the stars on his skin, her silver lips turning into a small smile. “I’d rather look at the stars than sleep.”
There is the thread that tells her she does not deserve him, that he is far too good for her and that someone else out there would be more worthy of his time—that it should be someone else pressed into his chest and surrounded by his darkness and his stars. But that thread is tightly woven with another one, the one that is selfish and does not want him to be with anyone else, the one that causes jealousy to spark alive in her chest at the thought of what might happen if she lets him go. It is something passed on by her mother, though she doesn’t realize it. She thinks of Ryatah as someone wholly deserving of her archangel status, as a symbol of all the things good and light in this world.
She does not know that her mother shares the same selfish tendencies, that Ryatah often thought her own heart to be just as wretched as Este thinks hers is. (Because she must be a selfish, wretched thing to feel envy when he speaks of a feather made of shadow—his shadows—gifted to her mother.)
He says that she never touched it, but the relief that she feels in learning that is quickly undone by her guilt. She knew, even though she hated admitting it, that her mother had meant something to him. That he would have only gifted her such a thing as a symbol of all the things he maybe could not or did not know how to say, and it pained her to think of how her mother did not reciprocate it. She wishes she could have been there to tell him that it did not matter what he gave her or what he said, she knew her mother would never pick anyone over Atrox. She does not think even that twisted brand of romance carved out specifically to exist with her own father stood a true chance against what was shared with the panther stallion.
It crosses her mind, not for the first time, that maybe she is some kind of consolation prize. A lesser angel, but a pretty substitute nonetheless. She should feel degraded by such a thing, but instead she only hopes that he will still keep her.
“I hope I am not like her either,” she says quietly into his skin, closing her eyes against the feeling of tears burning her throat—tears made up of too many emotions to name, all of them trying to spill over the brim of her breaking point, kept at bay only by the sheer willpower of not wanting to fall apart entirely in front of him. “I don’t want to be apart from you,” another soft-spoken confession, her lips still tracing a mindless path across his shoulder. She can’t help but to smile at what he says about Mazikeen chasing him out, breathing out a short laugh before saying, “She won’t chase you out for visiting for a few days.”
The second half of his statement causes her to go quiet, though, and she finds herself untangling from his embrace enough so that she might look at his face. “You would want me to go to Taiga with you?” Confusion shadows her face, but there is also a gentle kind of wonder, an amazement at the idea that anyone would want her to stay. But the idea of leaving behind Sela and her other siblings that live here, and even Atrox, has her feeling hesitant. “You would get tired of me if I went with you,” she finally says, quiet and downhearted.
Her soft brown eyes look out again to the lake, to the glassy surface and the stars that reflect so clearly they look as though Illum had placed them there. “I’m not ready to sleep yet,” and she turns her gaze from stars on the water and back to the stars on his skin, her silver lips turning into a small smile. “I’d rather look at the stars than sleep.”
YOU'VE GOT YOUR DEMONS AND DARLING THEY ALL LOOK LIKE ME
@Illum