12-28-2015, 01:27 PM
All things are possible, even the worst of things.
While words fall from her lips with little heed, his own sentences seem to get stuck against his tongue. There is so much he wishes to tell her, so many things he longs to say. Explanations to give and excuses to sway her forgiveness. But none of them come, caught in his throat, barbed lies that refuse to be spilled. He can only manage a few shaky, stuttered words forced passed a throat sliced raw by emotion while his head hangs in unendurable shame.
His name hangs in the air for an interminable moment while comprehension sinks in. He doesn’t need to see her to hear the gasp that sounds. That small, almost insignificant sound slices at him like a whip, a cat o’ nine tails that flays him alive. He flinches reflexively, wincing at the quiet sound that rings too loudly in his ears.
And then she all but dives at him and he jerks back involuntarily, forgetting for a moment that he is butted against a tree and has nowhere to go, bewilderment and resignation suffusing his features. But she does not snap at him with sharpened teeth as their mother had done in that awful place, does not beat at him with unforgiving hooves. Instead she curls into his broad chest even as sobs wrack her roan frame.
Is stands unnaturally still for a long heartbeat, uncertainty and shared grief warring within his breast. In the end, the grief wins out, the softer part of him that wishes to return her embrace. Even as her broken words fill his ears, he drops his head over her, pressing his muzzle against neck, pressing her closer to him. The shadows are there too, responding to his needs, his grief, blanketing them in their cool, comforting embrace even without his knowledge or realization.
I miss them too.
He whispers the words to her, an acknowledgement and shared understanding of her soul-deep grief. The moment continues in heavy silence until her sobs slow to sniffles and her unexpected (though in truth it should not have been) question breaks the quiet. He stills for a moment, frozen in remembered horror. It is not an experience he would wish to inflict upon anyone, much less his younger sister. When finally he does answer, the words escape him on a halting breath.
Somewhere… terrible.
His name hangs in the air for an interminable moment while comprehension sinks in. He doesn’t need to see her to hear the gasp that sounds. That small, almost insignificant sound slices at him like a whip, a cat o’ nine tails that flays him alive. He flinches reflexively, wincing at the quiet sound that rings too loudly in his ears.
And then she all but dives at him and he jerks back involuntarily, forgetting for a moment that he is butted against a tree and has nowhere to go, bewilderment and resignation suffusing his features. But she does not snap at him with sharpened teeth as their mother had done in that awful place, does not beat at him with unforgiving hooves. Instead she curls into his broad chest even as sobs wrack her roan frame.
Is stands unnaturally still for a long heartbeat, uncertainty and shared grief warring within his breast. In the end, the grief wins out, the softer part of him that wishes to return her embrace. Even as her broken words fill his ears, he drops his head over her, pressing his muzzle against neck, pressing her closer to him. The shadows are there too, responding to his needs, his grief, blanketing them in their cool, comforting embrace even without his knowledge or realization.
I miss them too.
He whispers the words to her, an acknowledgement and shared understanding of her soul-deep grief. The moment continues in heavy silence until her sobs slow to sniffles and her unexpected (though in truth it should not have been) question breaks the quiet. He stills for a moment, frozen in remembered horror. It is not an experience he would wish to inflict upon anyone, much less his younger sister. When finally he does answer, the words escape him on a halting breath.
Somewhere… terrible.
shahrizai
hestoni x scorch