04-20-2016, 10:33 PM
someday i'll soar, someday i'll be so much more,
because i'm bigger than my body gives me credit for.
because i'm bigger than my body gives me credit for.
Time was fleeting - each day brought with it a tiredly rising and falling sun, a blanket of brilliant, unfamiliar stars, bristling icy gusts of wind and shifting changes in weather. Each day was more unpredictable than the last, and it was so much for such a young soul to take in and absorb. Change followed every dawn and each dusk that fell behind it, leaving a streak of dying blossoms, the searing hot summer sun (in comparison to the touch of his father's frost-encased flesh, everything burned to the touch) and brittle, starving foliage crumbled along the permafrost that covered the terrain.
A single, spindly leg crushes yet another dried cluster of twigs beneath his lithe body; absolute destruction beneath the weight of a fragile mold made of skin, bones and glass. He marveled at the way it broke away and frayed at the very ends, grasping onto one another with split fragments of dried out fibers. He often felt like it did - crushed beneath the weight of the world, with no understanding of why he felt so suffocated, of why he felt so terrifyingly small. He was of average size - at least, he thought so, but he hadn't heard his worried murmurs made by his father to his mother in regards to his stature. He was of average strength and stamina - at least, he thought so, but he didn't know the way his mother's heart ached when he tired so swiftly after only a brief jaunt across the ice-encased terrain.
He did not know why he felt such a strong, devastating connection with the broken fragments beneath his dark hoof - only that it caused his delicate heart to pound harder and louder within the confines of his ribcage.
Argo swallows his anxiety down, suffocating the ache in his chest with the very same denial his mother and father both bore in their hearts. There was something very terribly wrong with their sweet, petite Argo, and deep down, it was a reality that none of them were ready to face.
He steps away from the pieces left behind by his gross curiosity, loping away from the dried brush with hot, burning tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. His emotions bubble and simmer beneath the surface as he feels a heady rush flood his veins, and suddenly, he is tired - so tired, and he presses his coal and alabaster splattered self against the bristling, sharp edges of the mountain base, bracing his small body against it. His vision swirls for a moment, and suddenly, it is over and he can breathe. It does not stop the torrent of tears that now streak along his marked cheeks now, and with heavy shame, he turns away and follows the jagged stones towards the smallest of openings, seeking refuge from his fear.
A soft hiccup erupts from his esophagus, echoing against the stone and reaching to the very darkest recesses, as he swallows a single sob - he knows mother will come looking for him soon, as twilight has begun its heavy descent and she worries so when he is not by her side in the depths of night - but he cannot face her now. He crumbles for a moment against the heavy rock, again trying to ignore his heart's rebellion within him - it grows so much more irate when he is upset, and he knows this, but it is to no avail. Loneliness begins to settle in, and dread follows at a short distance. Just as he begins to feel himself unravel, he hears movement - and his sounds cease, his tear-filled brown eyes widen as he stares wordlessly into the darkness.
It is only when his eyes adjust that his heart settles, at last. Neverwas. His sweet, quiet, unassuming brother - he had been there in the very beginning, surrounded by the bright, obscene sunlight that blinded him so briefly when he had first left the safe, warm embrace of the very cave he had emerged from his mother's womb in. He had always been there; he always was, and without even a breath of hesitation, he lumbers towards his curled up form and touches his wet, stained nose to the base of his neck. He does not know that they do not share the same blood; it matters not to him. He is his brother, wholly. He inhales his familiar scent of dust and pine and he finally crumbles beside him. His thin legs give and he lays beside him, his splattered coat pressed against his silvery obsidian one, and he drapes his neck over his brother's, a soft sniffle echoing in the dark cave.
He says nothing; he isn't ready to - but slowly, his heart begins to slow, it begins to settle, and he begins to calm.
A single, spindly leg crushes yet another dried cluster of twigs beneath his lithe body; absolute destruction beneath the weight of a fragile mold made of skin, bones and glass. He marveled at the way it broke away and frayed at the very ends, grasping onto one another with split fragments of dried out fibers. He often felt like it did - crushed beneath the weight of the world, with no understanding of why he felt so suffocated, of why he felt so terrifyingly small. He was of average size - at least, he thought so, but he hadn't heard his worried murmurs made by his father to his mother in regards to his stature. He was of average strength and stamina - at least, he thought so, but he didn't know the way his mother's heart ached when he tired so swiftly after only a brief jaunt across the ice-encased terrain.
He did not know why he felt such a strong, devastating connection with the broken fragments beneath his dark hoof - only that it caused his delicate heart to pound harder and louder within the confines of his ribcage.
Argo swallows his anxiety down, suffocating the ache in his chest with the very same denial his mother and father both bore in their hearts. There was something very terribly wrong with their sweet, petite Argo, and deep down, it was a reality that none of them were ready to face.
He steps away from the pieces left behind by his gross curiosity, loping away from the dried brush with hot, burning tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. His emotions bubble and simmer beneath the surface as he feels a heady rush flood his veins, and suddenly, he is tired - so tired, and he presses his coal and alabaster splattered self against the bristling, sharp edges of the mountain base, bracing his small body against it. His vision swirls for a moment, and suddenly, it is over and he can breathe. It does not stop the torrent of tears that now streak along his marked cheeks now, and with heavy shame, he turns away and follows the jagged stones towards the smallest of openings, seeking refuge from his fear.
A soft hiccup erupts from his esophagus, echoing against the stone and reaching to the very darkest recesses, as he swallows a single sob - he knows mother will come looking for him soon, as twilight has begun its heavy descent and she worries so when he is not by her side in the depths of night - but he cannot face her now. He crumbles for a moment against the heavy rock, again trying to ignore his heart's rebellion within him - it grows so much more irate when he is upset, and he knows this, but it is to no avail. Loneliness begins to settle in, and dread follows at a short distance. Just as he begins to feel himself unravel, he hears movement - and his sounds cease, his tear-filled brown eyes widen as he stares wordlessly into the darkness.
It is only when his eyes adjust that his heart settles, at last. Neverwas. His sweet, quiet, unassuming brother - he had been there in the very beginning, surrounded by the bright, obscene sunlight that blinded him so briefly when he had first left the safe, warm embrace of the very cave he had emerged from his mother's womb in. He had always been there; he always was, and without even a breath of hesitation, he lumbers towards his curled up form and touches his wet, stained nose to the base of his neck. He does not know that they do not share the same blood; it matters not to him. He is his brother, wholly. He inhales his familiar scent of dust and pine and he finally crumbles beside him. His thin legs give and he lays beside him, his splattered coat pressed against his silvery obsidian one, and he drapes his neck over his brother's, a soft sniffle echoing in the dark cave.
He says nothing; he isn't ready to - but slowly, his heart begins to slow, it begins to settle, and he begins to calm.
Argo
the fragile ice prince