Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Funny, isn't it? That he splashes with reckless abandon into the lake; that I am watching him do so; that not long before today, it had been his sister watching me tumble into those icy waters -- but my abandon had been deathly, whereas his is clearly sweet and heartfelt. Where Solace's brother leaves the water with flowers clinging to his muscled back, I left it with ravaged lungs and the sense that I should have died twice over - that I am more than dead, and yet still somehow alive. Some fucking how.
My body has weakened since the drowning; my gait as I approach him is a limp-shuffle-step, over and over again; limp-shuffle-step, limp-shuffle-step. I am a shadow of what I once was, a mongrel. My fur is unkempt and my ribs are just beginning to show beneath its red-and-white hue. Eyes, nutmeg, have taken on a tint that leaves no guesswork: I am a shattered soul, the dying breath of a wind that once thought it could race around the world.
"You're pretty like her," comes my rasping voice, searching for his ears. "And like him," I continue after a moment's thought, though more to myself than to him; he is golden like Rapt, but in a different way. More importantly though, his resemblance to Solace is undeniable. I find myself awakening at the thought of her, at the thought of her skin against mine, of her hot breath down my spine no matter how unintentionally. The tint of my eyes lightens some, and then there is no distance between him and I: we stand together, beneath the tree.
"You're the silly boy who crashed the Tephran's diplomatic visit," I allow then, my voice coming more clearly now that my mind goes beyond its own little nook that I've so carefully created for it. "And by the looks of it, you're still a foolish child." My eyes go blatantly to his sopping figure, to the fur that clings to his skin, defining his every muscle just so. I linger on his body for longer than I ought to, before returning my gaze to his face.
"I'm Kagerus. In case you forgot."
My body has weakened since the drowning; my gait as I approach him is a limp-shuffle-step, over and over again; limp-shuffle-step, limp-shuffle-step. I am a shadow of what I once was, a mongrel. My fur is unkempt and my ribs are just beginning to show beneath its red-and-white hue. Eyes, nutmeg, have taken on a tint that leaves no guesswork: I am a shattered soul, the dying breath of a wind that once thought it could race around the world.
"You're pretty like her," comes my rasping voice, searching for his ears. "And like him," I continue after a moment's thought, though more to myself than to him; he is golden like Rapt, but in a different way. More importantly though, his resemblance to Solace is undeniable. I find myself awakening at the thought of her, at the thought of her skin against mine, of her hot breath down my spine no matter how unintentionally. The tint of my eyes lightens some, and then there is no distance between him and I: we stand together, beneath the tree.
"You're the silly boy who crashed the Tephran's diplomatic visit," I allow then, my voice coming more clearly now that my mind goes beyond its own little nook that I've so carefully created for it. "And by the looks of it, you're still a foolish child." My eyes go blatantly to his sopping figure, to the fur that clings to his skin, defining his every muscle just so. I linger on his body for longer than I ought to, before returning my gaze to his face.
"I'm Kagerus. In case you forgot."
Kagerus
the dreamer
![[Image: kag]](https://78.media.tumblr.com/2e8039018ce4dff6112c167ec23e886a/tumblr_p72zjit7wC1s5a0qvo1_100.png)
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