03-01-2022, 06:59 PM
I'll settle for the ghost of you.
He understands dark tendencies and so far, for the most part except in small incidents, has been able to resist them. However, even under the heavy weight of his denial, deep down he knows that since he is terrible, he more than likely won’t be able to resist them forever. So maybe he would understand why she could turn a blind eye to him in one moment and help in the next.How funny, that an angel might be cursed as terrible too.
He doesn’t know her past though, the terrible things she has witness or partaken in. He cannot see her gray even if he stands in the same area himself. What he does see is the endless black eyes that remind him (with a painful flutter) of Liesma’s. The beacon of her halo that is far from tarnished. The golden light that soothingly closes the angry wounds on his back that’s similar to what he’s seen Obscene do. And all of these things, in his eyes, are good things. So that is all he can see in her.
There is no rush to be freed from the closed distance between them, finding sanctuary in the peace left behind from Terror and the comfort of another living breathing being after traveling alone for so long. He only watches with growing curiosity as her muzzle lingers near one of his jaguar spots. What was she thinking? He finds himself dying to know. She beats him with a question of her own and he doesn’t speak right away although a hint of a frown finds his pale mouth.
“Sometimes.” He admits, turning his head to her to see her more clearly. Terror was usually not a soul he willingly called, one that more or less used that connection he had to force itself through. He wasn’t always so troublesome though, at least the shadowed voice in his head doesn’t seem to mind him every now and then. “He’s kept me company though since I got lost.” It takes him a second to realize she might not know what he means. “I use to live in the South.” He says quietly, arching his neck and pressing his muzzle to his chest in a moment of self-soothing need.
Out of the corner of his yellow eye, he watches the lazy drift of stardust and the way it glitters into his dapples. Reminding him once more of someone who he use to know. “Are you related to Liesma?” The question escapes from him suddenly and he clears his throat, feeling uncertain as new tiny flames sprout along his shoulders. “You just… remind me of her a bit.” Those endless dark eyes, the similar connection to the sky and beyond above, that strange sense of peace that he had once found in the meadow at midnight. An ache of homesickness wraps itself around him, cementing itself in his lonely heart, and then he remembers there is no home to go back to and glances away from her, disgusted by the tears that shine unshed in the depths of strange yellow.
It was one thing to be touched by an angel and another thing entirely to have one see you cry.
FYR
@Ryatah