06-15-2017, 02:10 PM
She was his anchor (is she still?) and her absence had caused him to drift, lost within a tumultuous rampage that felt so much like drowning. The air was too thin, not enough oxygen could fill his lungs to keep him steady, and little by little, he felt himself sinking lower and lower, succumbing to the threat of darkness that has always attempted to consume him. The timing had been awful; her disappearance (truly, was it a disappearance if she had told him she was leaving?) fell into pace with Tang’s departure, and all of Tephra had fallen deathly quiet. The light that keeps him from slipping had put itself out, leaving him to sort through his doubts and fears within the dark and chilly depths of Tephra’s smoke-filled caves.
He had not done much sorting.
Though her absence weakened him, he truly did not feel so incredibly lost until he had felt the gold of her gaze wash over him, brush by him without so much as a second glance – as if it would have been better if she had never known him. How could he blame her? He nearly agrees with her; he is a worn and defeated thing, nearly lifeless and clings so selfishly to those around him so that they may keep what providing the happiness he works so hard to achieve. She hasn’t even begun to dig through the filth that is his struggles, not able to bring himself to allow her to take on his afflictions.
He feels like crumbling, letting himself come to pieces before her and collapsing to the dew-strewn grass below him. He had wanted her safe and she was, but he was still not satisfied. His stomach still churns with uncertainty and worry, feelings that he thought would cease once she returned to him. The fact that they still cling there, precariously perched on the rapid pulse of his heartbeat, lets him know that there was more to this bond than he had initially realized; but she could not want him, not in that way, for no one did. He is not of any importance, merely a stranded and broken soul staring up to the sky to try to find answers in the stars.
Part of him has also been selfish, and with her before him, staring at him with wide and apologetic eyes, stir more feelings of distraught and frustration through his chest. What did he expect from her? He refuses to share anything about his own struggle, yet fully expects her to comfort him with an unyielding ferocity. It was (and is) unfair. He attempts to bring his chin to his chest, trying to hide beneath the thickness of the forelock that falls over his auburn face, but he is not successful. She follows and finds him, as so she nobly will always do for him, leaving the pale gold of her lips to press beneath his throat, the warmth of her breath (that he was so undeserving of) soaking into his skin. She embraces him, her loyalty and devotion attempting to soothe the shuddering of his breaths. The gesture causes his heart to turn violently inside his chest, his jaw clenching as his body tenses, eyes squeezing shut.
Then, she apologizes.
Warrick’s eyes flutter open, their cerulean color shining brilliantly as the wild wind of his many feelings come to fruition in their depths. He steps out from under her embrace, fluidly and gracefully, for the guilt that finds the features of his face now seem to rattle his entire being. How had he let it come to this?
“No, Ellyse,” he says solidly, his eyes finding hers as he turns his face towards her. “You are to never to apologize to me. I am sorry I’ve led you to believe that you must. You do not owe me an explanation.”
His eyes now soften, still laced with a guilt that he knew he deserves to feel. He desperately wishes to step back beneath her embrace again, to feel the soft feathers of her wings cover and hide him, but he does not move.
‘You owe me nothing.’
He had not done much sorting.
Though her absence weakened him, he truly did not feel so incredibly lost until he had felt the gold of her gaze wash over him, brush by him without so much as a second glance – as if it would have been better if she had never known him. How could he blame her? He nearly agrees with her; he is a worn and defeated thing, nearly lifeless and clings so selfishly to those around him so that they may keep what providing the happiness he works so hard to achieve. She hasn’t even begun to dig through the filth that is his struggles, not able to bring himself to allow her to take on his afflictions.
He feels like crumbling, letting himself come to pieces before her and collapsing to the dew-strewn grass below him. He had wanted her safe and she was, but he was still not satisfied. His stomach still churns with uncertainty and worry, feelings that he thought would cease once she returned to him. The fact that they still cling there, precariously perched on the rapid pulse of his heartbeat, lets him know that there was more to this bond than he had initially realized; but she could not want him, not in that way, for no one did. He is not of any importance, merely a stranded and broken soul staring up to the sky to try to find answers in the stars.
Part of him has also been selfish, and with her before him, staring at him with wide and apologetic eyes, stir more feelings of distraught and frustration through his chest. What did he expect from her? He refuses to share anything about his own struggle, yet fully expects her to comfort him with an unyielding ferocity. It was (and is) unfair. He attempts to bring his chin to his chest, trying to hide beneath the thickness of the forelock that falls over his auburn face, but he is not successful. She follows and finds him, as so she nobly will always do for him, leaving the pale gold of her lips to press beneath his throat, the warmth of her breath (that he was so undeserving of) soaking into his skin. She embraces him, her loyalty and devotion attempting to soothe the shuddering of his breaths. The gesture causes his heart to turn violently inside his chest, his jaw clenching as his body tenses, eyes squeezing shut.
Then, she apologizes.
Warrick’s eyes flutter open, their cerulean color shining brilliantly as the wild wind of his many feelings come to fruition in their depths. He steps out from under her embrace, fluidly and gracefully, for the guilt that finds the features of his face now seem to rattle his entire being. How had he let it come to this?
“No, Ellyse,” he says solidly, his eyes finding hers as he turns his face towards her. “You are to never to apologize to me. I am sorry I’ve led you to believe that you must. You do not owe me an explanation.”
His eyes now soften, still laced with a guilt that he knew he deserves to feel. He desperately wishes to step back beneath her embrace again, to feel the soft feathers of her wings cover and hide him, but he does not move.
‘You owe me nothing.’
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick
@[Ellyse]