05-16-2016, 11:08 AM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
So it begins
As so many things do, days and years, life and love, past and present. Little did he know that this day he would face trial in a most unexpected way, laying himself bare before women in his very home. On this earth beneath him, soft and giving as it was but he could not expect them to be such. Often he would traipse behind them, far off in the distance to keep a keen eye on his sons, this day he trails even further behind, mind addled with thoughts about right and wrong. Hardly seeing with his eyes as he slowly combs the pine needle forest, relying mostly on memory and instinct to take a turn here or step aside for a crooked low-hanging branch. It was impossible to ignore the noise within his head, a buzzing, racing thrum that interrupted what should have been a very fine morning walk.
Instead he is restless, even in the depths of the night when the clouds overcast the moon and steal the silver shimmer from trickling through the trees. Even on the occasion that he dens with them separately, giving them warmth and solace when the skies overhead cry with tears and shouts angrily to itself like a scorned lover. Even then he dozes in fits, uncertain if it is the dreams or the nightmares that haunt him most.
If he had known better he would have taken a lie in today but he couldn’t when rest escaped him on so many levels. No, he followed Dacia and Hellbane lost in himself as he nosed carefully the ground they had passed, inhaling their scents like sweet bread from a wood stove on cold mountain air. The second child, Mortal was off on his own, already a child of certainty in a world where nothing was known, nothing was sure. He did not begrudge the boy his independence, just as he accepted the way that his eldest son clung to his Dam’s side and spoke so very little- at least to him. As he went the path smoldered behind him, black and charred and barren in each hoof print he left, steam simmering and settling against the forest floor like fog. If he had known just where she was wandering too he could have stopped her, could have tried to lessen the blow that would surely be struck as the familiar scent of the blue woman raked it’s way up his nostrils as he brooded.
Jerking to a stop and throwing his head up in attention his blazing eyes find that they are much too far ahead to save face now. Lost is the green and bay against the forest backdrop, lost is his hope to make amends for the actions he so direly should be made to answer for. He doesn’t want to see it, doesn’t to bear witness to the interaction that was surely a knife in the chest for all but he must. Who is to decide right and wrong if not for themselves?
When he breaches the clearing he is quite as death, skin flickering like a lantern as it roiled, bright and raging against the dim light of the forest. He’d broken them, just as easily as he cracked his own blackened surface to give way to the molten magma that simmered inside. Parts and hearts trapped and bound and explanations handed out only to one side while the other was left to teeter perilously on the edge of his own shortcomings. He burns now because he is angry, with himself and the procrastination he had taken to practicing when it came to the gentle heart of the olive colored girl. Thinking her a child still was likely a mistake and one he should have moved passed so many nights ago when they had collapsed tangled over one another, in the shelter he had made with the liquid core he held tightly in his proverbial hands. What is more is the two smaller figures at their sides, innocent lives and hearts created by his own selfishness (is he not after all this time?) and his silence only grows as he feels the lumps catch his throat, leaving him mute in a time when only words are needed.
As so many things do, days and years, life and love, past and present. Little did he know that this day he would face trial in a most unexpected way, laying himself bare before women in his very home. On this earth beneath him, soft and giving as it was but he could not expect them to be such. Often he would traipse behind them, far off in the distance to keep a keen eye on his sons, this day he trails even further behind, mind addled with thoughts about right and wrong. Hardly seeing with his eyes as he slowly combs the pine needle forest, relying mostly on memory and instinct to take a turn here or step aside for a crooked low-hanging branch. It was impossible to ignore the noise within his head, a buzzing, racing thrum that interrupted what should have been a very fine morning walk.
Instead he is restless, even in the depths of the night when the clouds overcast the moon and steal the silver shimmer from trickling through the trees. Even on the occasion that he dens with them separately, giving them warmth and solace when the skies overhead cry with tears and shouts angrily to itself like a scorned lover. Even then he dozes in fits, uncertain if it is the dreams or the nightmares that haunt him most.
If he had known better he would have taken a lie in today but he couldn’t when rest escaped him on so many levels. No, he followed Dacia and Hellbane lost in himself as he nosed carefully the ground they had passed, inhaling their scents like sweet bread from a wood stove on cold mountain air. The second child, Mortal was off on his own, already a child of certainty in a world where nothing was known, nothing was sure. He did not begrudge the boy his independence, just as he accepted the way that his eldest son clung to his Dam’s side and spoke so very little- at least to him. As he went the path smoldered behind him, black and charred and barren in each hoof print he left, steam simmering and settling against the forest floor like fog. If he had known just where she was wandering too he could have stopped her, could have tried to lessen the blow that would surely be struck as the familiar scent of the blue woman raked it’s way up his nostrils as he brooded.
Jerking to a stop and throwing his head up in attention his blazing eyes find that they are much too far ahead to save face now. Lost is the green and bay against the forest backdrop, lost is his hope to make amends for the actions he so direly should be made to answer for. He doesn’t want to see it, doesn’t to bear witness to the interaction that was surely a knife in the chest for all but he must. Who is to decide right and wrong if not for themselves?
When he breaches the clearing he is quite as death, skin flickering like a lantern as it roiled, bright and raging against the dim light of the forest. He’d broken them, just as easily as he cracked his own blackened surface to give way to the molten magma that simmered inside. Parts and hearts trapped and bound and explanations handed out only to one side while the other was left to teeter perilously on the edge of his own shortcomings. He burns now because he is angry, with himself and the procrastination he had taken to practicing when it came to the gentle heart of the olive colored girl. Thinking her a child still was likely a mistake and one he should have moved passed so many nights ago when they had collapsed tangled over one another, in the shelter he had made with the liquid core he held tightly in his proverbial hands. What is more is the two smaller figures at their sides, innocent lives and hearts created by his own selfishness (is he not after all this time?) and his silence only grows as he feels the lumps catch his throat, leaving him mute in a time when only words are needed.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
