05-31-2017, 02:43 AM
i'm not going to change, so stay out of my way.
i don't need you to understand that i'm already saved.
Ah, and their defining difference has revealed itself in quiet contemplation – where Heartfire had once held an open mind, and perhaps an open heart, Ellyse had been born callous, caring little for the company of others and preferring instead to delve into indifferent solitude. She had spent much of her youth tucked away within the shadows, shrouded in morning haze beneath a dimly lit canopy, toying with the dry, brittle bones and sinewy, rotting tissue of dead and dying creatures. Death did not frighten her – instead, it intrigued her.
It was the living that drove her away.
Alas, time had eventually worn her down, and loneliness had settled into her blood. The war-torn world had stolen away her only source of affection and adoration – her father (and even now, her heart would clench at the mere thought of him – she had not seen him in many years; she doubted she ever would again) - and it was not until she found unlikely comfort and solace in the companionship and amity of Magnus that her heart had begun to open up.
Motherhood had been her greatest accomplishment – she bore three by the one she had once given her heart to - how foolish she’d been. Perhaps that is the most glowing difference sparing the two from being too parallel: she had fallen in love; her children were the product of so much more than a dry, and unkind union born of vengeance. It would be a lie to say she does not feel superior to her for it (after all, she had never claimed to be humble nor kind) – even the darkest of hearts can see the power and prowess of love.
She no longer feels weakness for the love she has felt – merely foolish, but her ego will one day recover, and her heart will mend. The anger that had once consumed her no longer held any power over her – and should Heartfire see into her memories, it would be worthless to attempt using it to get under her skin.
Motherhood, though – motherhood, much like Heartfire, is both her finest strength and her greatest weakness.
There a long, lingering silence shared between them – her burning, fiery gaze of blue meeting with her own bristling flame of hazel, and without provocation, her golden skin parts for thick, bony spines that begin to protrude from her shoulders, along the length of her spine and up across her withers, rising from the tangles of her alabaster tresses. She may not wield the same mental prowess as she, but if she wanted a challenge, she would too willingly oblige.
”You do not frighten me, Heartfire,” she murmurs, her voice course and rough – a hint of a growl still rumbling through her words. ”you are nothing more than theatrics with no substance, at best – and at worst, well ..” and her lips upturn in her own dry, mirthless smile.
Within her mind, the clear image of two children filters through, both trembling and curled up into one another within the dark grasp of a spindly, murky forest – fearful and forlorn, and terribly alone; an insinuation of pitiable nurturing. Though they were not Heartfire's own children, it was an image she had recalled vividly from years ago, after the war had torn apart more than a few lives - an image with a dark enough suggestion to surely ruffle few feathers with its implication.
She is curious as to the reach of the blue roan’s unusual ability – and if her suspicion is correct, and if her image is as vivid to Heartfire as it is in her own mind, she would soon have her confirmation as to just how much she could see of her mind.
”I think I have made my point.”
It was the living that drove her away.
Alas, time had eventually worn her down, and loneliness had settled into her blood. The war-torn world had stolen away her only source of affection and adoration – her father (and even now, her heart would clench at the mere thought of him – she had not seen him in many years; she doubted she ever would again) - and it was not until she found unlikely comfort and solace in the companionship and amity of Magnus that her heart had begun to open up.
Motherhood had been her greatest accomplishment – she bore three by the one she had once given her heart to - how foolish she’d been. Perhaps that is the most glowing difference sparing the two from being too parallel: she had fallen in love; her children were the product of so much more than a dry, and unkind union born of vengeance. It would be a lie to say she does not feel superior to her for it (after all, she had never claimed to be humble nor kind) – even the darkest of hearts can see the power and prowess of love.
She no longer feels weakness for the love she has felt – merely foolish, but her ego will one day recover, and her heart will mend. The anger that had once consumed her no longer held any power over her – and should Heartfire see into her memories, it would be worthless to attempt using it to get under her skin.
Motherhood, though – motherhood, much like Heartfire, is both her finest strength and her greatest weakness.
There a long, lingering silence shared between them – her burning, fiery gaze of blue meeting with her own bristling flame of hazel, and without provocation, her golden skin parts for thick, bony spines that begin to protrude from her shoulders, along the length of her spine and up across her withers, rising from the tangles of her alabaster tresses. She may not wield the same mental prowess as she, but if she wanted a challenge, she would too willingly oblige.
”You do not frighten me, Heartfire,” she murmurs, her voice course and rough – a hint of a growl still rumbling through her words. ”you are nothing more than theatrics with no substance, at best – and at worst, well ..” and her lips upturn in her own dry, mirthless smile.
Within her mind, the clear image of two children filters through, both trembling and curled up into one another within the dark grasp of a spindly, murky forest – fearful and forlorn, and terribly alone; an insinuation of pitiable nurturing. Though they were not Heartfire's own children, it was an image she had recalled vividly from years ago, after the war had torn apart more than a few lives - an image with a dark enough suggestion to surely ruffle few feathers with its implication.
She is curious as to the reach of the blue roan’s unusual ability – and if her suspicion is correct, and if her image is as vivid to Heartfire as it is in her own mind, she would soon have her confirmation as to just how much she could see of her mind.
”I think I have made my point.”
Ellyse
omfg I am sorry she is bitch. :| I love Heartfire forgive meeee.