BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
They’re suffering, both of them. Glancing between them, Tiphon takes careful note of their wounds, their coughs, and their bloody noses. He wants to pull them into an embrace, to rejuvenate them and retract all their pain. A slow step is taken forward, beginning to act on impulse, but then they are admitting to him what began all of this. The disease – this awful plague – began with Carnage (why does that name sound like another lost memory?). Somehow he poisoned everyone’s mind to harm an innocent, and many – too many – acted on it. Everyone was punished, even those wanting to save the victim.
Like them.
”I’m happy you were able to make it here,” he whispers to them with a voice tender enough to be their lover. His heart swells, pressing against his ribcage. They are so strong, and yet riddled with a relentless infection.
Infection. Like his father.
A heavy breath inexplicably escapes him as he observes the sand underfoot before lifting his attention to Cress. ”Time,” he offers with a rolling shrug, ”Time and determination.” He hasn’t yet tried to mend the wounded and suffering; would he fail just as easily? ”We have to at least try and begin somewhere. Maybe with increased numbers, we could do this… Maybe.” Seizing the opportunity, Tiphon loops around then steps between them, lightly brushing his skin across theirs. His wings extend, embracing them delicately as threads of his own power reach and swim through their veins. It wears on him, sending his tendrils toward both simultaneously, but he is desperate until there is no other option than to step away and cut the tie. In front of them, he refuses to appear drained; Tiphon continues standing proudly and blinks away the haze of his vision. ”Even if it is only a little bit, at least we can take the edge off the pain.” He can’t bear to see more struggling to live.
”We have to try. We have to bring more here.”
Like them.
”I’m happy you were able to make it here,” he whispers to them with a voice tender enough to be their lover. His heart swells, pressing against his ribcage. They are so strong, and yet riddled with a relentless infection.
Infection. Like his father.
A heavy breath inexplicably escapes him as he observes the sand underfoot before lifting his attention to Cress. ”Time,” he offers with a rolling shrug, ”Time and determination.” He hasn’t yet tried to mend the wounded and suffering; would he fail just as easily? ”We have to at least try and begin somewhere. Maybe with increased numbers, we could do this… Maybe.” Seizing the opportunity, Tiphon loops around then steps between them, lightly brushing his skin across theirs. His wings extend, embracing them delicately as threads of his own power reach and swim through their veins. It wears on him, sending his tendrils toward both simultaneously, but he is desperate until there is no other option than to step away and cut the tie. In front of them, he refuses to appear drained; Tiphon continues standing proudly and blinks away the haze of his vision. ”Even if it is only a little bit, at least we can take the edge off the pain.” He can’t bear to see more struggling to live.
”We have to try. We have to bring more here.”
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION
@[Cress] @[leliana]