11-03-2017, 11:10 AM
Ellyse
she is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness
She can hardly look him in the eye.
He is not the same – he is different, carved into by a malevolent and merciless, reshaped into a bitter and broken fragment of what he had once been, and she cannot bring herself to seek his gaze; her own stare averted to the soft and supple soil sifting beneath her weight. Her heart is heavy, yet empty, and it is altogether almost enough to steal the breath away from her lungs while her thrumming heartbeat exerts itself tirelessly within her chest. The tension in the air is impossible to ignore, and dread has already begun to fill very crevice of her being – the tender marrow, between the taut tendons and tightened muscle of her physique, beneath the diamond plating of her glittering armor.
He is plucking at her, taunting her for the gift bestowed upon her (given, while much more of her had been taken – her bruised pride and empty eye socket said more than the heavy armor that lay across the slope of her spine). She can feel the ire beginning to filter through her hazy mind, pooling where uncertainty and wariness had once settled like a heavy sediment in her sordid blood. The anger is coursing through her – the very same rage, the very same wrath that had wrought her when he had turned away from her, a wicked gleam of loathing in his only eye, when she had been forced to feel her father crumble and breathe his final breath beneath her weight – and she is trembling. Quivering, end to end, while her heart is shattering all the while, proverbial pieces of what had been left falling away from her.
She can feel Dahmer searching the hardened tension of her clenched jaw, the emptiness of her hazel eye (as empty as the still bleeding, seeping wound of her gouged eye socket), the vibration of her pounding heartbeat she is almost certain he can feel as her shoulder presses against his own, urging him away, placing herself in between the devastation that lay before her. He is unkempt, unbound, falling apart in front of her and she is torn between wanting to tear him limb from limb, wanting to sink sharpened bone into him and force her to fall before him, as helpless and as powerless as he had made her feel –
But she cannot –
Her breath is shaky, uneven, for when she does finally see him come undone, bleeding and prying apart the flesh across his marred, heavily scarred chest, she can see him -
Broken, bleeding, behind the grievous anguish, beneath the trembling hatred, self-loathing, and regret.
Each word is cutting, pressing into her already tender heart and weary mind, deeper - deeper, until she can hardly breathe, and she is only drawn from the uncoiling nightmare by the gentle touch of Dahmer. His hip presses against her own, where her battered and aching wing lay loosely tucked across her barrel and along her flank, and a breath she did not realize she had been holding is released. The anger and the vehemence fall away, leaving the saddened, broken husk of the war-bound General, as the echo of a distant cry – soft, muffled sobbing, wracking her daughter’s breaking, frightened heart – remind her there is so much more beyond her own selfish heartbreak.
”Ledger,” she breathes at last, searching for any semblance of the one she had loved, of the one that had taken her heart from her so fully and so recklessly – only to see a face she can no longer recognize. ”I –“
But it is too late, he is too far gone, and the mention of Magnus causes her heart to clench so tightly inside of her chest, she is made dizzy by it, tucking her chin closer to her chest, shying away from the sight of him falling apart. He is disbelieving of her, hateful of Dahmer, imagining Magnus – the one that had crushed her spirit, the one that had broken his son time and time again – and she presses her shoulder into Dahmer again, urging him away.
”I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, a forlorn gleam in her eye as she quietly drives Dahmer closer to the hearth of the island, where the frothing volcano oozes magma, just as Ledger’s bleeding, broken body has begun to stain the soil beneath him with the deep scarlet of his blood.
”I will find you,” she promises, quietly, softly. ”I will make this right.”
Somehow. Some way.
He is not the same – he is different, carved into by a malevolent and merciless, reshaped into a bitter and broken fragment of what he had once been, and she cannot bring herself to seek his gaze; her own stare averted to the soft and supple soil sifting beneath her weight. Her heart is heavy, yet empty, and it is altogether almost enough to steal the breath away from her lungs while her thrumming heartbeat exerts itself tirelessly within her chest. The tension in the air is impossible to ignore, and dread has already begun to fill very crevice of her being – the tender marrow, between the taut tendons and tightened muscle of her physique, beneath the diamond plating of her glittering armor.
He is plucking at her, taunting her for the gift bestowed upon her (given, while much more of her had been taken – her bruised pride and empty eye socket said more than the heavy armor that lay across the slope of her spine). She can feel the ire beginning to filter through her hazy mind, pooling where uncertainty and wariness had once settled like a heavy sediment in her sordid blood. The anger is coursing through her – the very same rage, the very same wrath that had wrought her when he had turned away from her, a wicked gleam of loathing in his only eye, when she had been forced to feel her father crumble and breathe his final breath beneath her weight – and she is trembling. Quivering, end to end, while her heart is shattering all the while, proverbial pieces of what had been left falling away from her.
She can feel Dahmer searching the hardened tension of her clenched jaw, the emptiness of her hazel eye (as empty as the still bleeding, seeping wound of her gouged eye socket), the vibration of her pounding heartbeat she is almost certain he can feel as her shoulder presses against his own, urging him away, placing herself in between the devastation that lay before her. He is unkempt, unbound, falling apart in front of her and she is torn between wanting to tear him limb from limb, wanting to sink sharpened bone into him and force her to fall before him, as helpless and as powerless as he had made her feel –
But she cannot –
Her breath is shaky, uneven, for when she does finally see him come undone, bleeding and prying apart the flesh across his marred, heavily scarred chest, she can see him -
Broken, bleeding, behind the grievous anguish, beneath the trembling hatred, self-loathing, and regret.
Each word is cutting, pressing into her already tender heart and weary mind, deeper - deeper, until she can hardly breathe, and she is only drawn from the uncoiling nightmare by the gentle touch of Dahmer. His hip presses against her own, where her battered and aching wing lay loosely tucked across her barrel and along her flank, and a breath she did not realize she had been holding is released. The anger and the vehemence fall away, leaving the saddened, broken husk of the war-bound General, as the echo of a distant cry – soft, muffled sobbing, wracking her daughter’s breaking, frightened heart – remind her there is so much more beyond her own selfish heartbreak.
”Ledger,” she breathes at last, searching for any semblance of the one she had loved, of the one that had taken her heart from her so fully and so recklessly – only to see a face she can no longer recognize. ”I –“
But it is too late, he is too far gone, and the mention of Magnus causes her heart to clench so tightly inside of her chest, she is made dizzy by it, tucking her chin closer to her chest, shying away from the sight of him falling apart. He is disbelieving of her, hateful of Dahmer, imagining Magnus – the one that had crushed her spirit, the one that had broken his son time and time again – and she presses her shoulder into Dahmer again, urging him away.
”I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, a forlorn gleam in her eye as she quietly drives Dahmer closer to the hearth of the island, where the frothing volcano oozes magma, just as Ledger’s bleeding, broken body has begun to stain the soil beneath him with the deep scarlet of his blood.
”I will find you,” she promises, quietly, softly. ”I will make this right.”
Somehow. Some way.
she rules her life like a fine skylark, and when the sky is starless
@[Dahmer] @[Ledger]