scorch

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

And as the full weight of her once-husband slammed inelegantly into the unforgiving earth of Nerine, Scorch watched through tear-filled eyes as the last streaks of light abandoned the once eternal sunset which she bore atop her shoulders. Even through death and rebirth, through trial and error, through trauma and joy, his sunset had remained an unequivocal part of her, as present as the expansion and contraction of her powerful lungs. To see his light fading from her life so vividly, to be cast into darkness with nary a clue as the her surroundings, to be so utterly alone with the bedfellows of grief, anger, and pain that she had accrued for herself - to be so without, Scorch was left ragged.

Blood flowed unendingly from her lover's knee, a testament to the great scar that would be left there; but even such a scar held no candle to the forest fire of pain that Scorch had set upon Hestoni's shoulders. Where her world went dark without him, his ignited into white fire; gazing dejectedly towards her husband with quaking shoulders, she wondered which felt worse.

The coolness of her darkness answered that question immediately, and immediately made her sick once more.

In the bloodily silent wake of Scorch's begging, a sound like dying rattled through Hestoni's chest. The breath of the dying, Scorch thought dislocatedly to herself, tasting the ashes of their marriage like snowflakes upon her tongue which refused to melt. When the other lifted his gaze, Scorch recognized that same dissociation deep within the other's gaze, at once familiar with the defensive mechanism which held her feeble consciousness together, too. She wanted to smile at the thought, and perhaps she did - truth be told, she had no control over her facial expression as her husband rose, muttering incoherently, the words left unspoken hitting Scorch far harder than the handful that he cast out into the air between them.

In answer to his silent accusations, realizations, and sufferings, Scorch could only stare. Tears mirrored Hestoni's as they slid down her mutilated face, getting stuck in the intricate lacework of scars, wetting her face in many places instead of sliding cleanly to her jaw. Her tears were nothing in comparison to the pooling of blood around Hestoni's hoof, however, the cascading maroon liquid gleaming in the pale light around them. Scorch's eyes became caught upon the sight, making love to the pain she found there, knowing that it would be the last time she could feel so intimate with her husband; knowing that whatever came next, would still be worse than this.

You will stay here. The words caused a reignition of the mare's tears, the flames momentarily bursting into existence once more as she picked up on the warmth which yet remained in her husband's stone-cold voice. She did not deserve such kindness as he chose to bestow upon her. She did not. But the coolness of Hestoni's composure quickly overcame the mare's need to express the severity of the pain she felt. After all, it was she who hurt him, and not the other way around. If anyone deserved to be crying and screaming, it was him - and not even remotely her.

Silence fell from her lips as the stallion continued speaking.

This is your home. You have... You have family here.

The mare wanted to spit on this accusation, the grind her family into the dust: to show, somehow, anyhow, that the only person who mattered to her already stood before her. But the attempt would be in vain, she knew; she knew from the way his voice changed from hurt to resigned, from confused to completely understanding. Whatever tactics remained her in this conversation would never prove wieldy enough to bring him back to the place in her heart that belonged solely to him. She had already used the arsenal of weapons belonging to her heart against him, though she had pulled the trigger so long ago that she had grown lazy in her worry, convinced that if they had not found their mark by now, that they never would.

How wrong she had been.

A pained moan split Hestoni's lips, bringing tears to Scorch's eyes once more. Their depths glowed a pure emerald green, a reimagined version of her original eyes - eyes that she knew Hestoni once loved, though perhaps never again. I need time. The mare stiffened, staying the overwhelming urge to give into sobs again, instead staring at her titan with a pained, straining expression. The effort of remaining calm nearly caused the mare to stumble, but in the end, she stayed upright; whatever time Hestoni needed, she would allow him it. Whatever space he needed, she would find it in herself to give it to him. He could ask anything of her, and she would comply.

The life in her womb wriggled again, and she thought darkly upon how sincerely she meant it: that she would do anything to regain the love of her husband.

Trembling but quiet, Scorch only watched in agony as the wounded stallion limped closer. His knee begged sympathy and the sweet, feminine touch of a woman's kiss; but Scorch no longer laid claim to any such right, not even to the right of encouraging his affection. Her eyes swam with tears, looking blearily towards the blood-ridden snow such that Hestoni would know that she did not expect him to be kind or sweet to her in these moments; she deserved to be yelled at, to be chastised and divorced, with a harsh immediacy that she knew would break her spirit.

And so, when the most tender of kisses was placed upon the ugly and wet curve of her cheek, she felt the breakage of her soul all the same. The gesture was a divorce in its own right, a goodbye to all that they had shared for so many years - not a permanent one, perhaps, but one whose weight she had never felt the likeness of before. Her eyes screwed shut along with her mouth, the expression one of pain and unbridled self-hatred, the sob she refused to let loose causing pressure to build and to build and to build in her skull until she felt as though she might explode.

In the end, she only gasped, leaning her head pitifully and needily into his, not able to stop herself from silently begging for more. But of course, she deserved less than nothing, and before her heart could beat once more Hestoni had removed himself from her vicinity. The emptiness stung her cheek, and left her biting her lips to keep from crying for his return. At the words he next spoke, her jaw tightened enough to draw blood from her own flesh; but she thought naught of this, trying only to retain the poor excuse of composure which yet remained her.

"I do not deserve it," she muttered, the words garbled and pitiful - but before he could turn away, she inhaled sharply and reached, stopping the turn of his head with the briefest touch of her muzzle to his. "And for what little it's worth, I never stopped loving you, il mio titano." She tried to smile with the words, but her lips trembled to greatly and she ended up looking like a leaf being thrown roughly around in a gale, her edges dissolving beneath its great force.

Knowing that she had no right to stop his retreat, Scorch extricated her head from his pathway, clutching the wide breadth of her head to the curve of her throat, not trusting herself to stand any less held with him so close yet so far. A thousand words stormed through her mind as Hestoni took the first steps away from her, towards an infinite gulf that the mare feared neither of them would ever come to cross again; but she kept them to herself, refusing to deepen the fatal wound she had already inflicted.

She would not stay in Nerine, as he advised; but she knew, as she finally allowed her sobs to come keening and screaming from her lips, that he would find her when he needed to.

He always had, after all; now, the only question was whether he would ever need her again.

And, without warning, Scorch dissolved into pure twilight, her disembodied self flashing towards the border and away, scaring birds from the treetops as her wailing continued, even in this form. She went until she could no longer think; and when she stopped, a sleep blacker than her blind existence overtook her, the single black sleep one has after a night of trauma, one whose peacefulness would not be felt again for months to come.

Scorch

Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

"@[Hestoni]" i literally dont know what this says i hope it makes sense, I LOVE YOU