03-05-2016, 08:41 PM
lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all.
but lend me your heart and i'll just let you fall.
but lend me your heart and i'll just let you fall.
Permanence was a figure of speech that he had long since put behind him. Nothing of value was permanent for him. The seasons would change, from illustrious and brilliant hues of emerald and gold, to dull shades of grey and cobalt, and the weather would shift with it. Bright rays of sun one day, and deep, darkening storms looming the next. The landscape itself would change, rumbling with shifting plate tectonics that would mold and reshape the earth with its every bone-shaking rattle. Even those he had loved now were lost; bones having whittled away to dust and carried away with the icy wind. He was the only fragment of permanence he still had to cling on to, and he hardly considered his own life to be of any value at all.
It was within this deeply rooted acceptance of change that he remained in limbo. He was perpetually trapped within his own mind, scolding himself for making the slightest brush of communication with anyone else with a hammering heartbeat and bated breath, constantly wary of the harsh reality that was his life sentence. Though many spent the entirety of their lives pursuing the immortality that he himself possessed, he could not possibly fathom why. It was not unlike the lonely embrace of death - with his own life's thread hanging in the balance, spread thin to allow for a sharp cut but impenetrable to the jagged, frayed scissors of Morai - but without the same release. He would never have that glorious light glow behind closed eyelids; he would never walk to the other side and breathe his first breath in the afterlife.
He would never escape the permanence of loneliness.
He was oblivious to her own pain, as he festered in his own before her. He felt her lips again brush against his skin, and the same heat washed over him, enveloping him again in a deeply buried emotion and sensation he had not been certain still existed within him. Her touch on his sensitive scars led a long, trembling shiver to course down the slope of his spine, though he tensed in an attempt to shield it from her. He did not want her to see the reaction she was so easily eliciting from him, but the faint hitch of his breath against his cheek was all telling.
Quietly, he listens as she pours out the entirety of her raw, vulnerable heart. Now imagine you’ve kept your eyes closed for years, and suddenly it’s there all around you and it is brighter than it has ever been before. He closed his eyes for a moment, dark lids covering his deep, intimidating red eyes, lashes brushing her cheek as he falls into the gentle caress and alluring comfort of her spoken word. He can feel the light of the sun, figuratively and literally, and it is she that radiates the same blinding, unyielding light she speaks of and he has never felt so in awe as he does in that moment. She describes her pain with careful words, her voice trembling against his skin as he trails his lips along her neck. His eyes remain closed as he traces the soft curve of her jaw, his own lips pressing near hers. His movements mimic her own, and he is powerless to stop himself.
Her lips now touch his, and he finds himself more vulnerable than he has been in an entire lifetime. He opens his eyes now, staring deeply into her own, willing himself to understand - and he does. He studies her in the same awed way she is tempted to view another's mind's eye; wanting to understand and to listen and to feel. He, too, struggles with her own desire of wanting to pull away and to not see. He can feel and taste her sweet breath on his own, and soon it is clear to him as to the depth of this dangerous dive he has taken. She is the sun's bright, assaulting light, insisting he open his eyes and feel her in all of the ways her own ability pleads of her to feel others. He wants to look away, to protect himself from the inevitable end that will surely come to pass, but he cannot. Like her, he cannot resist the light for long, and he remains, his lips brushing across hers. He cannot stop it, either.
Her words gently murmur against his own, her imploring voice is so soft it gently tickles his flesh and leaves his heart alight. Will you tell me anyway? My name is Isle." Isle. Isle.
He studies her with the same ferocity, his red eyes darkening with something deeper and bigger than himself, gently pulling away - if only slightly - to take in the full sight of the wonder that stands before him.
His own baritone softens considerably; a gentle rumble amidst the bright haze of midday and its soft breezy touch.
"My name is Offspring," He says, tracing the way her soft features highlight the beauty of her eyes and her shapely cheeks. "and I see. I understand - and maybe it does .. or maybe it did. I have known loneliness for so long, I have forgotten any other way."
Until now.
It was within this deeply rooted acceptance of change that he remained in limbo. He was perpetually trapped within his own mind, scolding himself for making the slightest brush of communication with anyone else with a hammering heartbeat and bated breath, constantly wary of the harsh reality that was his life sentence. Though many spent the entirety of their lives pursuing the immortality that he himself possessed, he could not possibly fathom why. It was not unlike the lonely embrace of death - with his own life's thread hanging in the balance, spread thin to allow for a sharp cut but impenetrable to the jagged, frayed scissors of Morai - but without the same release. He would never have that glorious light glow behind closed eyelids; he would never walk to the other side and breathe his first breath in the afterlife.
He would never escape the permanence of loneliness.
He was oblivious to her own pain, as he festered in his own before her. He felt her lips again brush against his skin, and the same heat washed over him, enveloping him again in a deeply buried emotion and sensation he had not been certain still existed within him. Her touch on his sensitive scars led a long, trembling shiver to course down the slope of his spine, though he tensed in an attempt to shield it from her. He did not want her to see the reaction she was so easily eliciting from him, but the faint hitch of his breath against his cheek was all telling.
Quietly, he listens as she pours out the entirety of her raw, vulnerable heart. Now imagine you’ve kept your eyes closed for years, and suddenly it’s there all around you and it is brighter than it has ever been before. He closed his eyes for a moment, dark lids covering his deep, intimidating red eyes, lashes brushing her cheek as he falls into the gentle caress and alluring comfort of her spoken word. He can feel the light of the sun, figuratively and literally, and it is she that radiates the same blinding, unyielding light she speaks of and he has never felt so in awe as he does in that moment. She describes her pain with careful words, her voice trembling against his skin as he trails his lips along her neck. His eyes remain closed as he traces the soft curve of her jaw, his own lips pressing near hers. His movements mimic her own, and he is powerless to stop himself.
Her lips now touch his, and he finds himself more vulnerable than he has been in an entire lifetime. He opens his eyes now, staring deeply into her own, willing himself to understand - and he does. He studies her in the same awed way she is tempted to view another's mind's eye; wanting to understand and to listen and to feel. He, too, struggles with her own desire of wanting to pull away and to not see. He can feel and taste her sweet breath on his own, and soon it is clear to him as to the depth of this dangerous dive he has taken. She is the sun's bright, assaulting light, insisting he open his eyes and feel her in all of the ways her own ability pleads of her to feel others. He wants to look away, to protect himself from the inevitable end that will surely come to pass, but he cannot. Like her, he cannot resist the light for long, and he remains, his lips brushing across hers. He cannot stop it, either.
Her words gently murmur against his own, her imploring voice is so soft it gently tickles his flesh and leaves his heart alight. Will you tell me anyway? My name is Isle." Isle. Isle.
He studies her with the same ferocity, his red eyes darkening with something deeper and bigger than himself, gently pulling away - if only slightly - to take in the full sight of the wonder that stands before him.
His own baritone softens considerably; a gentle rumble amidst the bright haze of midday and its soft breezy touch.
"My name is Offspring," He says, tracing the way her soft features highlight the beauty of her eyes and her shapely cheeks. "and I see. I understand - and maybe it does .. or maybe it did. I have known loneliness for so long, I have forgotten any other way."
Until now.
OFFSPRING