09-20-2015, 06:48 PM
you taught me the courage of stars before you left
When Oksana had parted ways with the golden mind-reader, she had told him with a hollow smile that it was time for her to go back home. Back to the Chamber, to her not-sister Straia, to whatever family she still had that chose to remain there. To throw herself wholly into something until there was not even a single extra second for dwelling and self-pity and regret. She had meant it too. Talking with Dempsey had been enough to smooth out those ragged, flayed edges so the wounds in her heart would be able to start repairing. Not healing, nothing would be right again, but at least it didn’t have to hurt so much. But when she had pulled apart from Dempsey in the night, turning to disappear into the thick dark, something had stopped her.
A feeling of dulled urgency flared in the pit of her stomach.
Pausing, she peered uncertainly through the darkness, those flashing green eyes like gleaming emeralds in the night. Behind her, Dempsey had already gone. Her brow furrowed with unease as she turned to face forward again. Through the dark a form appeared, a silhouette taking shape in the cold, silver light of tired stars.
Her heart flung itself against her chest like a trapped bird just as an enormous pair of prehistoric wings erupted from her withers.
Doubt and suspicion addled her recognition and at once she was beside him with cold eyes and ears pinned viciously beneath a tangle of red mane. In the instant before her teeth would have struck his shoulder, certain details solidified in her mind and she froze. Gold, not black. And his eyes were different, still tortured, less feral. The tension bled from her body with a shuddery sigh as she took an uncertain step back, distrust flashing in those green eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she tells him quietly, uncertainly, the violence gone completely from her, “I thought you were someone else.” She can’t help but fall silent as her eyes explore his eyes, startling when that same sense of dulled urgency flared in her stomach again. A soft, “Oh”, dropped from her lips. “I’m Oksana.” Her nose reached out to brush across the slant of a jaw so disturbingly familiar it made her heart weep. “I’m sure we don’t,” a pause as she considers the turmoil warring within her, “and yet-”. Her sentence ended unfinished as she pulled her nose back.
There was a tiredness to her expression, an apology in the weariness of her voice, “I’m sorry, you caught me on an off night. I should be going.”
And yet she doesn’t.
Not a muscle moves as those aching eyes trace familiar lines on an unfamiliar face.
A feeling of dulled urgency flared in the pit of her stomach.
Pausing, she peered uncertainly through the darkness, those flashing green eyes like gleaming emeralds in the night. Behind her, Dempsey had already gone. Her brow furrowed with unease as she turned to face forward again. Through the dark a form appeared, a silhouette taking shape in the cold, silver light of tired stars.
Her heart flung itself against her chest like a trapped bird just as an enormous pair of prehistoric wings erupted from her withers.
Doubt and suspicion addled her recognition and at once she was beside him with cold eyes and ears pinned viciously beneath a tangle of red mane. In the instant before her teeth would have struck his shoulder, certain details solidified in her mind and she froze. Gold, not black. And his eyes were different, still tortured, less feral. The tension bled from her body with a shuddery sigh as she took an uncertain step back, distrust flashing in those green eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she tells him quietly, uncertainly, the violence gone completely from her, “I thought you were someone else.” She can’t help but fall silent as her eyes explore his eyes, startling when that same sense of dulled urgency flared in her stomach again. A soft, “Oh”, dropped from her lips. “I’m Oksana.” Her nose reached out to brush across the slant of a jaw so disturbingly familiar it made her heart weep. “I’m sure we don’t,” a pause as she considers the turmoil warring within her, “and yet-”. Her sentence ended unfinished as she pulled her nose back.
There was a tiredness to her expression, an apology in the weariness of her voice, “I’m sorry, you caught me on an off night. I should be going.”
And yet she doesn’t.
Not a muscle moves as those aching eyes trace familiar lines on an unfamiliar face.
how light carries on endlessly, even after death
Oksana