11-26-2018, 01:11 PM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
He just doesn’t want to fail, not again.
Forward-thinking is all he can try to do. He wants so desperately to help, to offer a safe alternative. She is dreamily lost in this chaos, praying that it isn’t real. Even confused, she is beautiful. Tiphon looks at her fondly from underneath his forelock while trying to map out their destination. Like a fool, he offered her a float with no foundation. There’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes, and it brightens her worried face, but he didn’t consider a place they could go. It was an idea tossed in the air out of panic because he doesn’t want to see her beauty darkened and destroyed by this pestilence.
Heat fanned across his face when they touched – a reassuring gesture, but one of few he has experienced – and though it startles him, he is still slow to pull away. The smile that it blossoms across her face is enough reassurance of the direction they are headed. They are strangers, and yet the disaster is bringing them closer like missing puzzle pieces.
”Madelyn,” her name is sweet on his tongue, brimming with joy even amid the disease engulfing them. She confirms that they must flee, that there is nothing more for them here. A final sweep of his eyes finds most of the land barren and consumed. Contorted tree branches loom over patches of the meadow, the grass wilted and hopeless. ”There is an island offshore. Perhaps it’s safe there?” He doesn’t realize how long of a trek it is, especially for one grounded without wings. The name escapes him, but he remembers a grainy voice in his head mentioning refuges, an island being one of them. They would have to swim – he wouldn’t abandon her even for flight – but the gains may weigh out the costs of travel. Tiphon inches closer, drawn to her even in her silence. ”We will find the island together and stay there for now, yes?” The gentleness in his tone contrasts with the soldier-like aura he radiates – a softness underneath the steel.
Looking up briefly at the sky, he tries to capture the scents of the world – like flies in a web – before mustering her in the appropriate direction. ”We can stop whenever you would like, Madelyn,” his lips press to her shoulder as he aligns himself with her, his wings remaining clutched to his sides, ”and if you feel ill, I will do my best to help you.” He offers all that he can, not realizing that the infection is swimming in his own bloodstream.
Forward-thinking is all he can try to do. He wants so desperately to help, to offer a safe alternative. She is dreamily lost in this chaos, praying that it isn’t real. Even confused, she is beautiful. Tiphon looks at her fondly from underneath his forelock while trying to map out their destination. Like a fool, he offered her a float with no foundation. There’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes, and it brightens her worried face, but he didn’t consider a place they could go. It was an idea tossed in the air out of panic because he doesn’t want to see her beauty darkened and destroyed by this pestilence.
Heat fanned across his face when they touched – a reassuring gesture, but one of few he has experienced – and though it startles him, he is still slow to pull away. The smile that it blossoms across her face is enough reassurance of the direction they are headed. They are strangers, and yet the disaster is bringing them closer like missing puzzle pieces.
”Madelyn,” her name is sweet on his tongue, brimming with joy even amid the disease engulfing them. She confirms that they must flee, that there is nothing more for them here. A final sweep of his eyes finds most of the land barren and consumed. Contorted tree branches loom over patches of the meadow, the grass wilted and hopeless. ”There is an island offshore. Perhaps it’s safe there?” He doesn’t realize how long of a trek it is, especially for one grounded without wings. The name escapes him, but he remembers a grainy voice in his head mentioning refuges, an island being one of them. They would have to swim – he wouldn’t abandon her even for flight – but the gains may weigh out the costs of travel. Tiphon inches closer, drawn to her even in her silence. ”We will find the island together and stay there for now, yes?” The gentleness in his tone contrasts with the soldier-like aura he radiates – a softness underneath the steel.
Looking up briefly at the sky, he tries to capture the scents of the world – like flies in a web – before mustering her in the appropriate direction. ”We can stop whenever you would like, Madelyn,” his lips press to her shoulder as he aligns himself with her, his wings remaining clutched to his sides, ”and if you feel ill, I will do my best to help you.” He offers all that he can, not realizing that the infection is swimming in his own bloodstream.
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION
@[Madelyn]
And then we can continue the thread in the island resort, if you'd like