she'll tear a hole in you; daemron

[pyxis]

as your love starts to surround you
all of their words are trying to drown you

Pyxis fights against this feeling in her chest with everything that she has. She fights to tie it down. She fights to ignore it. She fights to slash its throat. But she can’t. It grows without stopping, feverish in its need to consume. What had started as a small spark in her chest is now a wildfire, and she can feel it flaring in her throat with every breath—can feel it swell in her belly with each glance of his silver eyes. He was awakening something in her that she had spent her entire life trying to ignore. She wasn’t sure that she would ever be able to move on; she wasn’t sure that she would ever be whole again.

But she had to.

She thought of the emptiness of her mother’s eyes when their father in her left, and she understands now what it means to be hollowed out. If Daemron ever left her, she would be that empty—she would collapse on herself. She was more vulnerable now than she had ever allowed herself to be, and she knew the danger of staying near him. In ways she would never understand, she knew that she was giving him the power to destroy her—but she had to fight it. If she gave in to him now, she would never forgive herself.

“I can’t,” is all she says, doing her best to remain impassive, to hide the truth behind the flatness of her eyes. Her voice is simple, without embellishment, and she does her best to tamper down the flames behind the ice of her gaze. Moving toward him, knowing that she was walking a fine line, she does her best to be strong when her mouth finds his cheek. A single shudder races down her spine, but she does not show it in the casual, practiced smile. “You have been fun,” she says, aching with the lies she is once again weaving for him, “but I can’t stay.” His taste permeates her tongue, and she feels herself breaking.

So she does what she does best, and she takes a step back, shrugging her shoulders elegantly. “I apologize for the,” she pauses, searching for the word, “messiness of this.” Lies, all lies. This was not just messy, it was catastrophic. This was words colliding, constellations exploding, dynasties rising and falling. This was everything, and she hated herself for lessening it. “I should go.” Her eyes find Red, and for a second, just a breath, her mask falls—unable to hide the anguish from the sharp gaze of the wolf. But she gathers herself again, taking a deep breath, letting it out in an apathetic sigh. “Don’t try to find me again.”

Please find me, her heart screams, but she ignores that too.
And she does what she does best: she leaves.

and you break, it's too late for you to fall apart
and the blame that you claim is all your own fault

© patrick sobczak

pyxis' running away really ruins the whole concept of long threads. :| we can start another one right away if you'd like and just pretend time has passed or he can run after her or whatever you want. up to you! <3