05-06-2015, 07:18 PM
there's no religion that could save me
no matter how long my knees are on the floor
i'll pick up these broken pieces 'til i'm bleeding
if that'll make it right
His time has not come yet. He is a blank canvas waiting to be stained, a freshly made bed waiting to be crumpled and soiled. Where Cordis is jaded, he is smooth. Where he is learning, she is wishing she hadn’t learned so much. Wishing for the reversal of time, for the return of the nativity and innocence of youth. He sees it in her eyes which taste like agony, but he is naïve and innocent and youthful. His interpretation of life will always be flawed until he himself grows up; even then, perhaps he will always see Cordis in the wrong light.
The whirlwind of her mind falls into silence when he questions her. It’s disquieting in the way that her quietness should not be so. Everything about her is loud; the colour of her coat, the chaos of her mind, the agony in her eyes. Screams swell in his throats, manifesting into words which would shatter Cordis, or perhaps the impression he has of her. In these brief minutes, he has gathered but pieces of her nightmare. And from what he has seen, from what he has felt on her skin, he decides against his harsh words. She may be loud, but she is also quiet. Delicate. Unbreakable.
"Then return to them. To her.” He twists his neck, blue eyes trying vainly to catch hers. "She would not speak her name but I know of whom you speak.” The woman who was a universe, a vast void filled with seemingly tiny stars which make up her soul. The woman who would only say that her name belonged to Cordis. "Go now. She needs you like the dry forest needs the lightning. She needs to be set afire, if only to regrow into something more amazing.”
He steps forward, as though to touch her, to encourage her to go. He stops short, eyes searching hers. He knows what she has said. He knows what she has felt.
And so, he leaves.
The whirlwind of her mind falls into silence when he questions her. It’s disquieting in the way that her quietness should not be so. Everything about her is loud; the colour of her coat, the chaos of her mind, the agony in her eyes. Screams swell in his throats, manifesting into words which would shatter Cordis, or perhaps the impression he has of her. In these brief minutes, he has gathered but pieces of her nightmare. And from what he has seen, from what he has felt on her skin, he decides against his harsh words. She may be loud, but she is also quiet. Delicate. Unbreakable.
"Then return to them. To her.” He twists his neck, blue eyes trying vainly to catch hers. "She would not speak her name but I know of whom you speak.” The woman who was a universe, a vast void filled with seemingly tiny stars which make up her soul. The woman who would only say that her name belonged to Cordis. "Go now. She needs you like the dry forest needs the lightning. She needs to be set afire, if only to regrow into something more amazing.”
He steps forward, as though to touch her, to encourage her to go. He stops short, eyes searching hers. He knows what she has said. He knows what she has felt.
And so, he leaves.
Nihlus
rain manipulating, rabbit shifting son of Sinder & Noori
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