11-30-2015, 03:05 PM
All things are possible, even the worst of things.
She accepts herself so easily. The darkness within her and the pull of shadows, a part of her in a way he cannot understand. But he cannot accept himself so easily. He had been one thing, not so very long ago. A happy, carefree man with a full and rounded life. And then things had changed. Those he loved had died, had disappeared. He had been sucked into an alternate universe and changed irrevocably. He had been turned into a stranger, made into a man he does not know and does not understand. And that thought terrifies him.
One day, he might grow to embrace it. One day, he might become like her, accepting himself as easily as he breathes. But today is a struggle. A fight to simply be in his own skin. A skin stretched thin and taught over a new, strange skeleton; one that frays and cracks as he fights it.
But perhaps a push is all he needs, someone to tell him he is being an idiot. And she obliges, in the most straightforward way.
He can feel them stretch, feel the burn and ache of fighting the bright sunlight. It wearies him, to fight the sun and shadow in equal measure. He does not even realize how hard he is fighting until he feels exhaustion begin to creep up on him. He can feel the shadow of the trees nearby, calling and pulling, stretching for him. To cover and protect. He shakes his head. Even as she tells him they are him, that he is stupid, he shakes his head.
He knows he is acting stupid. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows it is foolish to tire himself so. To demand that his body perform feats it was not meant to. He thought the sun would keep them at bay, would weaken them. But it weakened him just as much to fight this internal battle, for they respond to him, his emotions, drawing on his energy so that they might do so.
Jerking his head up, he takes a step back. Away from her touch, her pull. And another. Unwittingly, unintentionally, he is backing towards the trees. Backing towards the deep, cool darkness that longs to shield his skin. But he stops before he reaches it, shaking his head violently.
I’m not.
Not one of them. Not stupid. Just not.
He is such a terrible liar.
They hurt me too.
One day, he might grow to embrace it. One day, he might become like her, accepting himself as easily as he breathes. But today is a struggle. A fight to simply be in his own skin. A skin stretched thin and taught over a new, strange skeleton; one that frays and cracks as he fights it.
But perhaps a push is all he needs, someone to tell him he is being an idiot. And she obliges, in the most straightforward way.
He can feel them stretch, feel the burn and ache of fighting the bright sunlight. It wearies him, to fight the sun and shadow in equal measure. He does not even realize how hard he is fighting until he feels exhaustion begin to creep up on him. He can feel the shadow of the trees nearby, calling and pulling, stretching for him. To cover and protect. He shakes his head. Even as she tells him they are him, that he is stupid, he shakes his head.
He knows he is acting stupid. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows it is foolish to tire himself so. To demand that his body perform feats it was not meant to. He thought the sun would keep them at bay, would weaken them. But it weakened him just as much to fight this internal battle, for they respond to him, his emotions, drawing on his energy so that they might do so.
Jerking his head up, he takes a step back. Away from her touch, her pull. And another. Unwittingly, unintentionally, he is backing towards the trees. Backing towards the deep, cool darkness that longs to shield his skin. But he stops before he reaches it, shaking his head violently.
I’m not.
Not one of them. Not stupid. Just not.
He is such a terrible liar.
They hurt me too.
shahrizai
hestoni x scorch