[private] I'm quick with the bullet when it comes undone; hourglass

[aureus]

Aureus

oh, these wings, they flicker and my feathers stir
'til I'm an ancient soul in a cascade world

He could live for a thousand years and he is not sure that he would ever forget the look on her face.

The way she had turned to stone. The way that the air around him had turned to ice. The feeling of it in his chest, dragging him below the surface until his lungs had practically collapsed in his chest. He had carried with him ever since, feeling that strange and heady feeling of disaster with him. As though he was the harbinger of everything that was to go wrong—as though he was as terrible as he had always believed.

It is a devastating feeling to find your failures are worse than even you had imagined.

So when he sees her again, everything in him grows cold and then sharp and then empty. He feels his limbs grow leaden as he comes to a pause, the autumn sun slanting down around him, dimming his milky glow. Aureus swallows, hard, and all of his thoughts of escape, of trying to avoid her, of leaving, disappear. His mind goes blank as quickly as it whirls into a cataclysm of thoughts, the roar growing.

His pale lips part, but no sound comes, and he feels the urge to run, but his feet remain planted.

There is the only thought that perhaps if he is still enough, that she will not see him and he will not have to see that sharp hatred in her eyes once more, deserved as though it may be.

And he does his best to hide in plain sight—the same coward she had accused him of being.

and I'm quick with the bullet when it comes undone
I got a head like a turret with a mouth for a gun

[Hourglass]

— and how long must I stay, will I lay by your side
just to say that I'm yours and you'll never be mine —

She has looked for him unsuccessfully, and her hope was beginning to dwindle.

Perhaps she had been mistaken. Perhaps any kind of spark she thought that had existed between them had been fabricated in her own girlish mind. She had been so sure of it, though – had even told her mother about it. Had asked Desire if she ever came across a pale boy with blue in his hair and a jealous star that followed him in the dark. Her mother had seemed disinterested and had told her that if the boy had not come back for her, that the feeling was not mutual. 

The truth of it had stung, but she knew how her mother could be – it was her version of caring, to try and ground her too romantic daughter back to earth, to shield her from heartache by heading it off before it found her.

She has no idea what lengths Desire had gone to accomplish just that.

When she sees Aureus, when her sweet lilac-eyes scan the meadow and find his familiar face, the light that expands inside of her chest is unmatched, but she is careful to not let it show. She smiles in a way that does not touch her lips but instead sparks from her eyes, as a sudden flood of shyness keeps her momentarily rooted to the spot. The cold sun glints dimly off the copper-red of her glass skin, the galaxy spiral on her chest seeming to glitter and waver as she finally begins to walk towards him. “Aureus,” she says his name softly, but in a strangely calm way -- remembering what her mother had said, that if he had never come back, he was not interested. The doubt of that pricks at the back of her mind, leaves her feeling uncertain and causes her to dull most of the enthusiasm she typically would have greeted him with. “How are you?”

hourglass

— with this love like a hole,
swallow my soul —

[aureus]

Aureus

oh, these wings, they flicker and my feathers stir
'til I'm an ancient soul in a cascade world

It hurts to look at her like this. To see her in her wholeness and know that all of his most foolish daydreams had been just that: dreams. To see that she would always be beyond his touch and to know that it was the cold look in her eye, the condemning tone in her voice that would haunt him for the rest of his life. It burrows under his skin and he cannot shake it. It cracks him apart every night and very rarely does he piece himself back together in the morning—because he knew it was true. All of it. Every word.

He swallows hard when she turns to see him, and he closes his eyes for a second.

His breath shaking, if only slightly.

When his eyes open again, she is closer and as beautiful as ever—as rare, as precious. Her voice is softer this time and he thinks for a moment he could perhaps pretend that the last meeting had never happened at all—that this was the young girl he had met all of those years ago. But she is more subdued than that girl and the reality of it curls in his belly, souring in his mouth as he realizes that he had not dreamt it.

“Hi,” he manages, not able to force himself to say her name. Would he whisper it? He might give away his tenderness, the way he still longs in the way young men do—and he could not bear to be so vulnerable before her. Not after she had shown herself to know his weakest spots. Would he spit it out? He could not imagine being so cruel, not even after she’d buried her knife to the hilt in his chest—but he doesn’t know.

So he limits his words, biting his own tongue.

“I have been—” and that’s when he notices it happening. The sky changing. The darkness crawling toward them. The sun peeling behind something strange. It feels cold, empty, and altogether wrong.

His brow furrows and his throat tightens, something like fear snaking through him.

And without thinking he steps toward her—his voice strangely disconnected, hollow, cold.

“We have to go.”

and I'm quick with the bullet when it comes undone
I got a head like a turret with a mouth for a gun

I decided to add a little...spice.

@[The Monsters] - his self-healing is up for grabs. have at it.

[Random Event]

@[aureus] your self-healing has mutated into compulsion. you're welcome.

[Hourglass]

— and how long must I stay, will I lay by your side
just to say that I'm yours and you'll never be mine —

He is looking at her in a way that she cannot comprehend — all she knows is that it makes her uneasy. There is a feeling of guilt, as if she has done something wrong, and she is surprised at how easily an apology is willing to leap to her tongue. She does not need a reason, does not need to know why, or even understand what is happening; she just knows that she will do anything to keep him from looking at her this way. He is guarded, and the uncomfortable coiling inside of her chest tells her that it was something she did. She combs back through her memories, searches through every single one of them for the mistake that she made, and when she comes up empty-handed she assumes that is just another mark against herself.

She has upset him in some way and she was too selfish and blind to see what she did.
And it is no wonder, then, that he chose to never come back. He should not have to explain himself; not to a young, stupid girl like her.

But she cannot shake the hope from her heart, not when she finds his familiar eyes — once so warm and open, and now so distant and closed — and she is reminded of a dark forest and fireflies, of fairy tales and knights.

Her heart skips a beat when he steps toward her, but the cool, impersonal tone of his voice almost makes her shrink back. It’s only when she sees the darkness crawling across the land that she tears her lilac-eyes from his face to the sky above, and for a moment she is transfixed at the sight of the moon swallowing the sun. A fear that she cannot name races in a shiver up her spine, and her gaze flickers back to him, and she falls into place beside his retreating form. “What’s happening?” she asks with another glance upward, and the sudden rush of fear and anxiety is released in the form of a slight edge to her voice when she goes on to say, “And why are you acting so strange?”

hourglass

— with this love like a hole,
swallow my soul —

@[The Monsters] I want to see what happens to her love illusionism <3

[Random Event]

@[Hourglass] your love illusionism has mutated into vision sharing. you're welcome.

[aureus]

Aureus

oh, these wings, they flicker and my feathers stir
'til I'm an ancient soul in a cascade world

The darkness chases away his own self-loathing, but never far away enough to escape it completely.

Instead it lurks around the corners of his mind, always just a breath away in time, just right there should he need reminding of all the ways that he has broken things that should never have broken. It lives there in him, a curious and hateful thing, and so he turns from it, pouring himself into this moment.

He studies the fragility of her and his heart seizes in his chest as he realizes that the only thing between her and that which roams in the dark is himself. Himself and the star that comes toward them with startling force. Astrum is weak, he can tell, as if caught behind a veil and this hurts too, but he reaches up to her. She brushes against his nose, as if trying to tell him something, and if he feels the cold rage of her jealousy, it too is muted in the moment. He tries to discern what she is trying to tell him, tell them, but the darkness comes on stronger and she disappears in a blink—as if she had never been there at all.

Aureus swallows hard, trying to not make more of the moment than it was.

Shaking his head, he looks back to Hourglass and the fear for her, the worry for his companion, the unknown all collide in his chest—turning him colder than he has ever been. It hardens his usually soft edges, turning his concern into aggression. He has no way of knowing that the monsters have stolen his self-healing and replaced it with something darker. Has no way of knowing that the gift changes him too.

He catches her glance and with more force than usual, he whispers, “I need you to stop asking questions.” It feels like a command and if he is surprised by it, it doesn’t show on his handsome, angled face.

She had rejected him, but he could at least protect her now.

“Just follow me, okay?”

and I'm quick with the bullet when it comes undone
I got a head like a turret with a mouth for a gun

[Hourglass]

— and how long must I stay, will I lay by your side
just to say that I'm yours and you'll never be mine —

Their words to each other are edged, as if the pieces of her glass self have broken and become weaponized. She blames the darkness, and the things that roam inside of it. She thinks that is the only way the once soft boy she had known would turn into something so cold and stone-chiseled. She liked to think herself a fairly good judge of character, if perhaps a little too forgiving of others flaws. The Aureus she had known had given no hint at this, and she tries to ignore the way his tight words and sharp tone leave spider-webbing cracks across the surface of her heart.

It's strange, though, how she thinks she can actually feel it; that it is not just a figure of speech to say she feels like her heart is going to break. It's a twinge so sharp in her chest that it makes her suck in a breath, and draws her nose downward, pressing it to where the galaxy spiraled from its center.

Just as quickly it's gone, leaving her to wonder if the faint stinging that lingers there afterward is just her imagination.

She had been distracted enough by the pain in her chest that she hardly noticed Astrum's presence, but when she catches the flash of the star only for her to disappear moments later, it diverts her attention back to Aureus. Her lips press tightly together at the way he speaks to her, and she is sure that even in the dark he would feel the way her eyes grow sharp, but she says nothing. She is afraid of saying something she cannot take back, and so instead she falls into step alongside him. “What did Astrum say?” She asks, her tone somewhat flat, afraid that any emotion will only come out as anger.

hourglass

— with this love like a hole,
swallow my soul —

[aureus]

Aureus

oh, these wings, they flicker and my feathers stir
'til I'm an ancient soul in a cascade world

He notices the sharp inhale, the way she seems to cringe away from him, and there is a part of him that nearly breaks with it. That wants to fold around her. To apologize a million times. To press kisses to all of the delicate curves of her, the places where her glass slopes away, and let her know that he does not mean this. He would whisper all of his dreams to her—would tell her all of the ways she has invaded his nights and all of the thoughts he has had about what he would show her, where he would take her.

But he finds that there is something lodged in his throat.

Something painful that he can barely breathe around.

Something that remains firmly planted.

Taking a shuddering breath, he turns fully to her as Astrum disappears, his breath escaping him in a frustrated exhale. His shoulder jerks a little, his mouth yanking down in the corner, and he wishes once again that he could explain everything to her—but his pain is a visceral thing. His shame too strong.

As she questions him, he stops suddenly, pivoting to her and searching her face. The compulsion in him rises, dark and twisted, taking his pain and morphing it into anger. He finds her gaze and holds it, his purple eyes flinty, his mouth tight. “Stop asking questions,” he commands before following it up with a gentler, “I’m trying to get us out of here.” His glow pulses slowly around them, but even he can tell that it is dying—that the watery light he gives up would be swallowed completely by the world around them.

His throat grows dry at the thought—

dryer at the thought that he may not be enough to protect her—

and so he plunges forward again, knowing that keeping them moving was the only way to keep them safe.

and I'm quick with the bullet when it comes undone
I got a head like a turret with a mouth for a gun

@[Hourglass]

[Hourglass]

— and how long must I stay, will I lay by your side
just to say that I'm yours and you'll never be mine —

He seems so angry with her, and she is still so confused by it. When they had first met he, like so many others, had been overly cautious around her. It was difficult not to, with those delicate glass legs that look like they would shatter from a single misstep, an entire body that could be broken apart in a single blow.

The glass heart that no one knew existed, a heart that simply did not match her own strength and resilience.
A heart that was going to break and there would be nothing she could do to stop it.

He is not treating her like she is made of glass now, though. He turns and he snaps at her in a way that makes her visibly shrink back, that makes her light-colored eyes begin to darken with tears. She wants to ask him why, but the question seems to stick in her throat. She wants to ask him what she did wrong, and it’s like the words are turned to ash before she can even get them to her tongue.

“You’re mad at me,” she says to him—a statement, not a question. The tears that she had fought so hard to hold back suddenly break loose, spilling from her violet eyes and in currents down the red glass of her cheek. The faint, thin scratches across her heart feel like they are burning, and like her chest is going to shatter apart. And with the pain there comes humiliation and shame, because she has worked so hard to never show any weakness, to never give anyone a reason to think she was just as fragile as she looked.

“I don’t need your help, Aureus,” her words are still wet and trembling with tears but there is a ferocity building behind them, a fierce kind of desperation to not be weak. “I can save myself,” she manages to choke around the knot in her throat, suddenly veering away from him, not even caring what direction she is heading.

hourglass

— with this love like a hole,
swallow my soul —