05-20-2022, 11:38 PM
You think I'll be the Dark Sky so you can be the Star?
I'll Swallow you whole.
I'll Swallow you whole.
Not worth your time, he tells her, and where some might have been offended by the implication that someone they loved was not worth their time, Islas is only perplexed, and she again lets the orb of starlight dissolve to pin her father with a confused stare.
A star ripped from the sky, she has studied the earth-born creatures around her closely, trying to understand their mannerisms so that she might mimic them better. One of the first things she had noticed about them is how they were steeped with emotion. They wore it plainly on their faces—in their smiles and frowns, in the reflection of their eyes and the tension of their jaws. She marveled at how they were both quick to laugh and quick to anger, and wondered why she never felt even a fraction of what they felt.
She learned that she could fake a smile but she could not fake actually caring, and she soon gave up trying to appease any of them.
She had never been meant to be here to begin with, and perhaps it was a cruel form of destiny that she remain an outcast.
She watched her mother fall in and out of love as easily as she breathed, meanwhile Islas choked on it.
Until she met Tiercel, the man that had shown her what it meant to feel. They had been fabrications at first, emotions that he projected onto her using the powers he had been born with. But it had been exhilarating, to actually feel something; to feel her starlit-veins alight with anger, to feel her chest clench with sorrow, and the ache-like coiling of desire. Over time, the emotion she felt in regards to him and their children became more authentic, even if they were often still locked behind a mostly expressionless exterior.
She had thought that she had finally achieved what they all were after—to find someone to live and to die for, to finally understand why they had these hearts beating in their chests.
“I’m not sure what you're saying,” she says, confusion clouding her face, because she does not think Tiercel would simply leave. She remembers the way the darkness had swallowed him during the eclipse, and she can feel the first threads of worry trying to work themselves loose. “Make what easier?”
A star ripped from the sky, she has studied the earth-born creatures around her closely, trying to understand their mannerisms so that she might mimic them better. One of the first things she had noticed about them is how they were steeped with emotion. They wore it plainly on their faces—in their smiles and frowns, in the reflection of their eyes and the tension of their jaws. She marveled at how they were both quick to laugh and quick to anger, and wondered why she never felt even a fraction of what they felt.
She learned that she could fake a smile but she could not fake actually caring, and she soon gave up trying to appease any of them.
She had never been meant to be here to begin with, and perhaps it was a cruel form of destiny that she remain an outcast.
She watched her mother fall in and out of love as easily as she breathed, meanwhile Islas choked on it.
Until she met Tiercel, the man that had shown her what it meant to feel. They had been fabrications at first, emotions that he projected onto her using the powers he had been born with. But it had been exhilarating, to actually feel something; to feel her starlit-veins alight with anger, to feel her chest clench with sorrow, and the ache-like coiling of desire. Over time, the emotion she felt in regards to him and their children became more authentic, even if they were often still locked behind a mostly expressionless exterior.
She had thought that she had finally achieved what they all were after—to find someone to live and to die for, to finally understand why they had these hearts beating in their chests.
“I’m not sure what you're saying,” she says, confusion clouding her face, because she does not think Tiercel would simply leave. She remembers the way the darkness had swallowed him during the eclipse, and she can feel the first threads of worry trying to work themselves loose. “Make what easier?”
Islas
