07-13-2023, 03:20 PM
it's a mystery to me
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
Is she willing to relive it? Is she ready to feel the ocean fill her lungs? Does she want to thrash under the sharp pain of his bite?
Wishbone isn’t sure of the answers to those questions, but she does know she deserves it. She has earned Ivar’s bite and the ocean’s saltwater sting because she has failed as a mother and queen. Tephra, Nerine, Sickle and Malik, or Rivuline and Delphi forgiving her matters greatly — yet she knows that forgiving herself will be the hardest challenge. She has spent so much time already riddled with guilt and regret, feeling her heart heavy in her chest. Wishbone hopes that this death will be the redemption she longs for. Deep down, she knows that she is not worthy of vindication just yet.
She must pay for her sins a little longer before she allows herself freedom.
She cannot deny there is a piece of her that enjoys this. Wishbone has always been a flirt, seeking the attention of different men, and she has missed the chase. Perhaps her zeal for the opposite sex is what eventually pushed Wolfbane away from her, but that history is so distant that her relationship with her childhood friend is not added to the pain that holds her down now. The purple mare finds her guilt is very faintly lessened under Ivar’s luring gaze, and the burn she feels tells her that she wants him, along with the pain she knows is coming.
A swim, he says, and she can’t help the rough chuckle that follows his suggestion. There’s a bite of irony to the sound of her amusement, something almost sarcastic. Of course, he would mention a swim, would want to get her where she is powerless, would want to be in a place of control. Wishbone realizes that perhaps Ivar has always been the most predictable thing in her life. She didn’t know it before, but she is almost certain of it now.
She exhales a warm, soft breath against the curve of his scaled neck and then shifts away, turning herself toward the ocean’s star-speckled waves. The water is calm but cold, and Wishbone closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling of it. She had stayed away from the ocean for a short time after Ivar drowned her, but her affinity for it had been stronger than her fear and it hadn’t been long before she was swimming again.
She wades deeper, letting the waves splash up against her chest and curved sides. The water glows faintly near her scar, creating a soft ethereal ambiance underwater. Wishbone turns her head to find Ivar, her heart pounding quicker knowing that justice might soon be served.
Wishbone isn’t sure of the answers to those questions, but she does know she deserves it. She has earned Ivar’s bite and the ocean’s saltwater sting because she has failed as a mother and queen. Tephra, Nerine, Sickle and Malik, or Rivuline and Delphi forgiving her matters greatly — yet she knows that forgiving herself will be the hardest challenge. She has spent so much time already riddled with guilt and regret, feeling her heart heavy in her chest. Wishbone hopes that this death will be the redemption she longs for. Deep down, she knows that she is not worthy of vindication just yet.
She must pay for her sins a little longer before she allows herself freedom.
She cannot deny there is a piece of her that enjoys this. Wishbone has always been a flirt, seeking the attention of different men, and she has missed the chase. Perhaps her zeal for the opposite sex is what eventually pushed Wolfbane away from her, but that history is so distant that her relationship with her childhood friend is not added to the pain that holds her down now. The purple mare finds her guilt is very faintly lessened under Ivar’s luring gaze, and the burn she feels tells her that she wants him, along with the pain she knows is coming.
A swim, he says, and she can’t help the rough chuckle that follows his suggestion. There’s a bite of irony to the sound of her amusement, something almost sarcastic. Of course, he would mention a swim, would want to get her where she is powerless, would want to be in a place of control. Wishbone realizes that perhaps Ivar has always been the most predictable thing in her life. She didn’t know it before, but she is almost certain of it now.
She exhales a warm, soft breath against the curve of his scaled neck and then shifts away, turning herself toward the ocean’s star-speckled waves. The water is calm but cold, and Wishbone closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling of it. She had stayed away from the ocean for a short time after Ivar drowned her, but her affinity for it had been stronger than her fear and it hadn’t been long before she was swimming again.
She wades deeper, letting the waves splash up against her chest and curved sides. The water glows faintly near her scar, creating a soft ethereal ambiance underwater. Wishbone turns her head to find Ivar, her heart pounding quicker knowing that justice might soon be served.
@Ivar