01-13-2021, 02:13 AM
You think I'll be the Dark Sky so you can be the Star?
I'll Swallow you Whole.
I'll Swallow you Whole.
She has wondered the same things as him—has tried to understand where this sudden flood of emotions has come from. His presence has always stirred something inside of her; it was what had drawn her to him in the first place.
It used to feel clearer, though; a singular, stark emotion contrasted against the void, teaching her in flashes what anger and happiness and everything in between felt like. She could pick each one out easily, each one like a bright light in the dark.
She isn’t sure what has changed, though she has an idea.
She isn’t sure if it was being so close to him for extended periods of time, if maybe his own emotions had planted themselves inside of her and started to bloom all on their own. That maybe he had ingrained a piece of himself that her darkness could not touch.
It’s what she had assumed at first, at least, until their child began to grow. Until she could feel them moving and pressing against her sides, bringing with it flashes of unexplained feeling.
The emotions that she feels are often more chaotic than what she has grown accustomed to from him; they come in waves, overwhelming and all-consuming. Some of them are pleasant, like the sudden surges of love and warmth, feelings of tranquility and peace that shed light even in this dark. But like the tide it brings with it something new not long after— anxiety and dread consuming it all, until her heart and her mind race and she wishes she could feel nothing again.
Right now, though, her emotions feel steady. His peace on the walls and the simple sureness of him next to her seems to keep the fluctuating emotions in check, and she finds herself shifting closer at the feel of his lips on her jaw. Something in what he says stirs a rare feeling of guilt in her chest, and she finds that she doesn’t like the bitterness of it in her throat or the way it fills the entirety of her ribcage. “I know Loess isn’t where you want to be,” she tells him, and she reaches to gently press her lips to the groove of his throat, moving until her nose follows the strong arch of his neck. “But thank you for staying.”
Because she would not have wanted to navigate this alone, and she realizes in this moment that he did not need to be here with her.
Her pale skin trembles at the warmth of his kiss against it, and again she marvels at the fact that she feels anything at all. That each one still feels like sparks inside of her veins, and though she has never imagined anyone else touching her—or anyone at all, until him—she thinks that no one else could stir from the depths the emotion that he does.
“I’m okay, mostly,” she tells him, her face resting against the strands of his mane. She does not tell him that without the stars she feels entirely unmoored; that maybe this is why she has anchored herself so securely to him. She does not say that with each passing day in this dark something inside her feels like it is weakening, that sometimes when he is not here to ignite something else she feels a lead-like exhaustion in her bones. “I think our child is like you, though,” she says with a small smile that is lost in the dark and his hair, but her words are still spoken in the shape of it, “I feel things even when you aren’t around.”
It used to feel clearer, though; a singular, stark emotion contrasted against the void, teaching her in flashes what anger and happiness and everything in between felt like. She could pick each one out easily, each one like a bright light in the dark.
She isn’t sure what has changed, though she has an idea.
She isn’t sure if it was being so close to him for extended periods of time, if maybe his own emotions had planted themselves inside of her and started to bloom all on their own. That maybe he had ingrained a piece of himself that her darkness could not touch.
It’s what she had assumed at first, at least, until their child began to grow. Until she could feel them moving and pressing against her sides, bringing with it flashes of unexplained feeling.
The emotions that she feels are often more chaotic than what she has grown accustomed to from him; they come in waves, overwhelming and all-consuming. Some of them are pleasant, like the sudden surges of love and warmth, feelings of tranquility and peace that shed light even in this dark. But like the tide it brings with it something new not long after— anxiety and dread consuming it all, until her heart and her mind race and she wishes she could feel nothing again.
Right now, though, her emotions feel steady. His peace on the walls and the simple sureness of him next to her seems to keep the fluctuating emotions in check, and she finds herself shifting closer at the feel of his lips on her jaw. Something in what he says stirs a rare feeling of guilt in her chest, and she finds that she doesn’t like the bitterness of it in her throat or the way it fills the entirety of her ribcage. “I know Loess isn’t where you want to be,” she tells him, and she reaches to gently press her lips to the groove of his throat, moving until her nose follows the strong arch of his neck. “But thank you for staying.”
Because she would not have wanted to navigate this alone, and she realizes in this moment that he did not need to be here with her.
Her pale skin trembles at the warmth of his kiss against it, and again she marvels at the fact that she feels anything at all. That each one still feels like sparks inside of her veins, and though she has never imagined anyone else touching her—or anyone at all, until him—she thinks that no one else could stir from the depths the emotion that he does.
“I’m okay, mostly,” she tells him, her face resting against the strands of his mane. She does not tell him that without the stars she feels entirely unmoored; that maybe this is why she has anchored herself so securely to him. She does not say that with each passing day in this dark something inside her feels like it is weakening, that sometimes when he is not here to ignite something else she feels a lead-like exhaustion in her bones. “I think our child is like you, though,” she says with a small smile that is lost in the dark and his hair, but her words are still spoken in the shape of it, “I feel things even when you aren’t around.”
Islas
@[Tiercel]
um I lost power literally the very second I finished this post and my cell service is very spotty so I am just posting it and hopefully it's fine lmao