05-03-2015, 05:21 PM
and death shall have no
DOMINION
Dominion was well acquainted with grief. Loss was her oldest friend, her lifelong companion. Everyone she had ever loved had in the end only renewed that bond. Parents, siblings, her entire people lost to drought and disease and warfare. Four tribes scattered to the wind, the last of the survivors drowned in the cold, bitter sea that had spit her back out on strange shores. The entire life she’d made for herself since, with friends and family, a lover and babies, all stolen by the cruel mountain that had sheltered them and lulled them into complacency. All lost, because the world was always only ever ending. And yet.
And yet, once again Dom had survived. Once again, she was healing. And once again, Tarnished had found her at the end of the world and helped her pick up the shattered pieces of her life and forge them into something new. He and the mysterious goddess of the sea had helped her through yet another tragedy. And now once again, Dom was not adrift in the bitter sea, tossed about by waves more wild than she could rie out, just fighting to keep her head above water. Once again, she was healing. Once again, she was standing tall.
He, on the other hand, was lying in the dirt.
She saw him, cheek pressed into the grass with an aimless desperation, looking as though he wanted to melt into the patch of earth beneath him. And because she knew that ache, knew the way it rang inside a hollowed out body that felt like it was made of broken glass and splinters, she ambled over, her nose low to the ground so that it brushed against his neck when she got close enough. “So what happened then?” she murmured, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. But she didn’t want to be the one to shatter him, and he looked on the verge of it already.
And yet, once again Dom had survived. Once again, she was healing. And once again, Tarnished had found her at the end of the world and helped her pick up the shattered pieces of her life and forge them into something new. He and the mysterious goddess of the sea had helped her through yet another tragedy. And now once again, Dom was not adrift in the bitter sea, tossed about by waves more wild than she could rie out, just fighting to keep her head above water. Once again, she was healing. Once again, she was standing tall.
He, on the other hand, was lying in the dirt.
She saw him, cheek pressed into the grass with an aimless desperation, looking as though he wanted to melt into the patch of earth beneath him. And because she knew that ache, knew the way it rang inside a hollowed out body that felt like it was made of broken glass and splinters, she ambled over, her nose low to the ground so that it brushed against his neck when she got close enough. “So what happened then?” she murmured, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. But she didn’t want to be the one to shatter him, and he looked on the verge of it already.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;