02-20-2016, 04:31 PM
everyone i know goes away in the end
"It is unlike anything I have seen before," He murmurs softly, his gaze still lingering on her long enough to make it seem ambiguous as to what he was referring to - her, or the storm. Eventually he looks away, staring out into the brewing darkness that shields over the meadow, dousing it in heavy drops of water, losing his frame of thought for a moment. The soft puff of air from his nostrils from his slow, repetitive but shallow breathing was all that moved and shifted as he locked his gaze and mind elsewhere. Stillness was of his essence; he had learned long ago to simply listen and wait. A century of living (existing) instills a deeply-embedded lack of urgency; there was little in life worth taking for granted when life was something that would last an eternity.
There was no worry for the end - he had tried; oh he had tried - but suicide was nothing but a method to further paint his scarred, impaired canvas of black. Drowning, hanging, starvation - none of it worked. His life always held on to its tightly woven string, refusing to let the life forces beyond cut his lifeline, leaving him as a wallowing, sorrowful lump. Miserable. Suffering.
The last time he had attempted to take his own life was on an afternoon much like this, many years ago, but there was something deeper, darker - dangerous - about this storm. Perhaps it was only perceived in his mind. It was, after all, a reminder of what almost was. Of the death he once so desperately ached for. An end. He could feel the same festering pain beginning to bubble up within his chest, and he tried to swallow it down. He closed his eyes for a moment, aware that the amber-stained female next to him was watching, observing. He could feel his skin beginning to grow hot as he finally shifted his weight, anxious for any sort of movement to break the stillness that had brought him back in time.
"It is safer here. Lucrezia." His deep red eyes bored into her now, staring into her own as he tries not to be distracted by the allure of her peafowl feathers as they drape along her neck. She was unusual, but beautiful. Well-spoken. He was grateful for her company. "I come from the Tundra, and you? What brings you here?"
There was no worry for the end - he had tried; oh he had tried - but suicide was nothing but a method to further paint his scarred, impaired canvas of black. Drowning, hanging, starvation - none of it worked. His life always held on to its tightly woven string, refusing to let the life forces beyond cut his lifeline, leaving him as a wallowing, sorrowful lump. Miserable. Suffering.
The last time he had attempted to take his own life was on an afternoon much like this, many years ago, but there was something deeper, darker - dangerous - about this storm. Perhaps it was only perceived in his mind. It was, after all, a reminder of what almost was. Of the death he once so desperately ached for. An end. He could feel the same festering pain beginning to bubble up within his chest, and he tried to swallow it down. He closed his eyes for a moment, aware that the amber-stained female next to him was watching, observing. He could feel his skin beginning to grow hot as he finally shifted his weight, anxious for any sort of movement to break the stillness that had brought him back in time.
"It is safer here. Lucrezia." His deep red eyes bored into her now, staring into her own as he tries not to be distracted by the allure of her peafowl feathers as they drape along her neck. She was unusual, but beautiful. Well-spoken. He was grateful for her company. "I come from the Tundra, and you? What brings you here?"
offspring
