09-09-2021, 06:29 PM
It feels like time is coming undone, like she’ll never be steady on her feet, steady in this place, steady with this pain like a stone inside her chest. She can feel herself breaking as she watches Obscene fight with the magic he has long since spent on her, pulling on reserves that were already empty. Her eyes never leave their daughter, not even to notice the way Obsidio is a ghost in his stillness, in some horror she cannot see. She is too busy memorizing that shade of grulla, like storm clouds and wet stone, and the gold points a shade absolutely stolen from her father. She has stars on her face, an irregular marking on her delicate brow, and when she opens her eyes they are like twin rubies.
She is watching those eyes when the light finally goes from them, watching that delicate body when it slumps sideways into a silence she cannot break. “My fault.” She claims the burden as she staggers forward to kiss that starry brow, letting her lips learn the angles of a face she vows never to forget.
Outwardly she is as still as her daughter, with eyes that match. Cold and quiet and unseeing as she gathers up this pain between them and drags it to herself. “This is because of me. Had I told you, we could’ve been more prepared.” Maybe talked to another healer, or even a magician. A fortune teller, someone who could have warned them, could have prepared them, could have kept all this from happening.
There is a hole inside her chest now, a vast cavern of loss, of emptiness, a cave-in she doesn’t want to fill. It is a hole large enough for a ghost, perhaps, for a stormcloud girl with shining garnet eyes.
It is only when Obscene shifts, that sudden explosion of fae into snake, into scales and writhing darkness, that something in her sparks past this pain trying so desperately to drag her under. She steps in front of Obsidio, blocking him from his father, the snake, and when her eyes fall on Obscene’s face, they are forever changed. The blue of tears, of sorrow, of a pain too deep to bear.
“Go.” She says, and despite the iron in her voice, it is not a command, not a rebuke. It is acceptance that this is the form his pain takes, that this is what his heart needs. She is not sure at all if he is still in there or if the man retreats past the snake - especially now when to be man means to face such unbearable pain. But she also thinks that even at his worst, even held hostage like this inside a form that is not his, he would never harm his son. Even so, her wings flare wide again, shield both children from this change, and when she speaks again, not knowing whether he understands or not, she says, “I will give her a name, and I will keep our son safe. I promise.”
She is watching those eyes when the light finally goes from them, watching that delicate body when it slumps sideways into a silence she cannot break. “My fault.” She claims the burden as she staggers forward to kiss that starry brow, letting her lips learn the angles of a face she vows never to forget.
Outwardly she is as still as her daughter, with eyes that match. Cold and quiet and unseeing as she gathers up this pain between them and drags it to herself. “This is because of me. Had I told you, we could’ve been more prepared.” Maybe talked to another healer, or even a magician. A fortune teller, someone who could have warned them, could have prepared them, could have kept all this from happening.
There is a hole inside her chest now, a vast cavern of loss, of emptiness, a cave-in she doesn’t want to fill. It is a hole large enough for a ghost, perhaps, for a stormcloud girl with shining garnet eyes.
It is only when Obscene shifts, that sudden explosion of fae into snake, into scales and writhing darkness, that something in her sparks past this pain trying so desperately to drag her under. She steps in front of Obsidio, blocking him from his father, the snake, and when her eyes fall on Obscene’s face, they are forever changed. The blue of tears, of sorrow, of a pain too deep to bear.
“Go.” She says, and despite the iron in her voice, it is not a command, not a rebuke. It is acceptance that this is the form his pain takes, that this is what his heart needs. She is not sure at all if he is still in there or if the man retreats past the snake - especially now when to be man means to face such unbearable pain. But she also thinks that even at his worst, even held hostage like this inside a form that is not his, he would never harm his son. Even so, her wings flare wide again, shield both children from this change, and when she speaks again, not knowing whether he understands or not, she says, “I will give her a name, and I will keep our son safe. I promise.”
REVELRIE
it feels like falling, it feels like rain,
like losing my balance again and again