04-28-2021, 06:54 PM
stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;
better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
It is a pale face that greets Tiercel, but it isn’t the one he’s hoping to see. She has been in his every waking moment, ever since the rock-beast pushed him off the edge of the ridge and the inky-black lake swallowed him. His memories of the Underworld are stark and full, but Islas’s soft, glowing face brings moments of peace among the pain. Even now: although he’s slipped back into his home-world, the Underworld’s dark hands feel tight and choking in his mind. He aches for Islas, for her quiet understanding and vast emptiness and gentle touch.
There is a moment where all he sees are pale feet, and his heart quickens. At the exact moment, the sun pulls itself into the fibers of his heart and blood vessels, threaded there by the hands of Beqanna. It sends his heart and blood vessels aglow beneath his skin, each heartbeat bringing a pulse of light. The sun’s warmth seeps into Tiercel, but it leaves just as quickly when his eyes meet a disapproving, masculine face.
I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.
He hadn’t been expecting Islas to wait for him on the shore, but the hope of seeing her makes his disappointment feel even sharper. The dun almost misses what Not-Islas says, too consumed by the roar of emotions threatening to overcome him. “No,” he rasps. His pale eyes are pleading. They seem sunken, making the angles of his face jagged and drawing attention to the intense exhaustion that lies there plainly. “Islas,” he says again, and his chest shudders with an emotional exhale. “Where is Islas?”
There is a moment where all he sees are pale feet, and his heart quickens. At the exact moment, the sun pulls itself into the fibers of his heart and blood vessels, threaded there by the hands of Beqanna. It sends his heart and blood vessels aglow beneath his skin, each heartbeat bringing a pulse of light. The sun’s warmth seeps into Tiercel, but it leaves just as quickly when his eyes meet a disapproving, masculine face.
I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you. I can’t leave you.
He hadn’t been expecting Islas to wait for him on the shore, but the hope of seeing her makes his disappointment feel even sharper. The dun almost misses what Not-Islas says, too consumed by the roar of emotions threatening to overcome him. “No,” he rasps. His pale eyes are pleading. They seem sunken, making the angles of his face jagged and drawing attention to the intense exhaustion that lies there plainly. “Islas,” he says again, and his chest shudders with an emotional exhale. “Where is Islas?”
tiercel.
@[Tarian]