05-03-2015, 06:02 PM
and death shall have no
DOMINION
“Margaery.” Ah, not a what, then. A who. Dom knew just what whos could do to a heart, just what devastation they could leave in their wake. Her who had pushed aside every lesson she’d learned from a childhood spent surviving when no one else had. Her who had barged into her heart and claimed it as his own with his irresistibly charming grin and those deep brown eyes that just sparkled with playful teasing and the kind of innocence she had lost to life before she’d left her mother’s side.
“That explains a lot,” she said, and her voice was huskier, empathy with a touch of rueful self-deprecating humor. “Whos do a lot more damage than whats.” She lipped at the silky black of his mane and tugged. “So are you going to get back up, then? Or are you going to lay here for the rest of your life waiting for her to come back to you?” The question was simple, almost flippant, but his answer would tell her a lot. Was he the type to spend forever lost in the past, in what had been and what could have been and what never was? Or did he have it in him to stand back up even when life knocked him on his ass? She’d needed a swift kick in hers from a goddess of the sea. Maybe she could return the favor, as it were.
Or maybe he was too far gone to be brought back. She had seen those too, had known them well. Sometimes even the strong of spirit broke badly enough that they couldn’t mend. They usually fell to predators or starved or fell ill, their bodies giving in to the breaking. Ah, but here. Here, there was food in abundance beyond the telling of it. Here, there were healers to repair bodies ravaged by illness, and somehow despite the proliferation of prey animals, the predators were at a baffling minimum. Even the broken survived here, far more easily than Dom could understand. Maybe he would be one of the walking dead, unable to escape into oblivion. Unable to find their way back to the stars. Lost in a world that had forgotten how to lead them home.
“That explains a lot,” she said, and her voice was huskier, empathy with a touch of rueful self-deprecating humor. “Whos do a lot more damage than whats.” She lipped at the silky black of his mane and tugged. “So are you going to get back up, then? Or are you going to lay here for the rest of your life waiting for her to come back to you?” The question was simple, almost flippant, but his answer would tell her a lot. Was he the type to spend forever lost in the past, in what had been and what could have been and what never was? Or did he have it in him to stand back up even when life knocked him on his ass? She’d needed a swift kick in hers from a goddess of the sea. Maybe she could return the favor, as it were.
Or maybe he was too far gone to be brought back. She had seen those too, had known them well. Sometimes even the strong of spirit broke badly enough that they couldn’t mend. They usually fell to predators or starved or fell ill, their bodies giving in to the breaking. Ah, but here. Here, there was food in abundance beyond the telling of it. Here, there were healers to repair bodies ravaged by illness, and somehow despite the proliferation of prey animals, the predators were at a baffling minimum. Even the broken survived here, far more easily than Dom could understand. Maybe he would be one of the walking dead, unable to escape into oblivion. Unable to find their way back to the stars. Lost in a world that had forgotten how to lead them home.
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;