12-07-2020, 12:48 AM
Svedka, no matter how unlike himself he felt in this moment, was still the kindest thing she has found in recent memory. Lilliana too, and her own daughter, Echis, but other than that she was not accustomed to being in the company of something that felt so uncomplicated. She was used to having to be careful; to being mindful of the way her words might be twisted against her. But standing here with him, with the lull of the waves against the shore in the distance, such things were far from her mind. Even if the topic was on the heavier side, she found herself feeling oddly at ease.
His voice, even when taut with an unnamable pain and fear, still sounded soft, like a golden light that still reached her even in the dark.
It draws her in, leaves her wondering what he might be like when he was not haunted by demons (she doesn’t even remember what that would be like anymore – her demons have become so much a part of her that she would be nothing without them).
“You should be glad,” she says with a knowing smile. “Being dead gets boring after awhile. The novelty wears off quickly.” There was always that moment that it was a relief; all the pain just gone, a sigh that would build in her lungs if only the air existed. The eerie calm after a frantically beating heart suddenly brought to standstill. And maybe, for just a second, the dimming of emotions was welcomed; until she inevitably realized she was to be left with a dull, lingering ache for all of eternity.
Her time spent with death was not always brief. She knew all too well what it was like to be left to drift aimlessly in a never-ending dark, from a time before the afterlife had existed. Every time she has died since there was always that thought in the back of her mind that she might end up back there, rather than the afterlife – at least the afterlife had the illusion of being almost alive. At least the afterlife still clung to the barest of threads connecting it to this world, and she stood a chance of coming back.
His touch feels warm, and while it is not the electrifying spark she is used to there is still something magnetic about it. There is a desire to be closer to him, and the thought – the hope – that this would not be their last time meeting. “I am completely sure,” she tells him with a certainty in her otherwise soft voice. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s difficult to continuously find your new normal.” She is far from the original version of herself; decades away from the naive girl in the jungle, or even the young queen that lost her eyes in the Dale. She has learned to make peace with every rendition of herself, even though some were significantly harder than others.
His voice, even when taut with an unnamable pain and fear, still sounded soft, like a golden light that still reached her even in the dark.
It draws her in, leaves her wondering what he might be like when he was not haunted by demons (she doesn’t even remember what that would be like anymore – her demons have become so much a part of her that she would be nothing without them).
“You should be glad,” she says with a knowing smile. “Being dead gets boring after awhile. The novelty wears off quickly.” There was always that moment that it was a relief; all the pain just gone, a sigh that would build in her lungs if only the air existed. The eerie calm after a frantically beating heart suddenly brought to standstill. And maybe, for just a second, the dimming of emotions was welcomed; until she inevitably realized she was to be left with a dull, lingering ache for all of eternity.
Her time spent with death was not always brief. She knew all too well what it was like to be left to drift aimlessly in a never-ending dark, from a time before the afterlife had existed. Every time she has died since there was always that thought in the back of her mind that she might end up back there, rather than the afterlife – at least the afterlife had the illusion of being almost alive. At least the afterlife still clung to the barest of threads connecting it to this world, and she stood a chance of coming back.
His touch feels warm, and while it is not the electrifying spark she is used to there is still something magnetic about it. There is a desire to be closer to him, and the thought – the hope – that this would not be their last time meeting. “I am completely sure,” she tells him with a certainty in her otherwise soft voice. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s difficult to continuously find your new normal.” She is far from the original version of herself; decades away from the naive girl in the jungle, or even the young queen that lost her eyes in the Dale. She has learned to make peace with every rendition of herself, even though some were significantly harder than others.
R y A t A h
and you can aim for my heart, go for blood
but you would still miss me in your bones
but you would still miss me in your bones
@[Svedka]