02-02-2021, 11:14 AM
stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;
better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
He didn’t think the world could get much darker. As Tiercel opens his eyes beneath the bitter water’s surface, he realizes he was wrong. The lake has taken whatever light can be found and swallowed it, hiding it away in a black hole. The only indication that he has opened his eyes is the sting of the water. He is swimming in the darkness of his mind, in the place between awake and sleeping, in a galaxy with no stars or moons or planets.
He dives down anyway, a clumsy swimmer at best, and kicks his legs until he feels the bottom of the lake. It is smooth rock, washed soft by a river that must have run here decades ago. Tiercel touches it with his nose, and the rock is so cold it feels like something has bitten him. It feels like what he imagines touching a star might feel like (he doesn’t fully understand that the faintly-glowing woman at the edge of the lake is a star, that he has touched her soft skin and it has not bitten him), and his heart sinks even further.
It is madness to think the stars might be hidden at the bottom of a Loessian lake.
With a nose stinging from the chill of the rock, with a heart heavy with disappointment, with lungs burning for air — Tiercel pushes off the bottom of the lake and swims through the pure black. His face breaks the surface first, and he sucks in a quick, deep breath. The lungful of air doesn’t settle the wild array of emotions that seem to pull him back toward the lake’s bottom; he swims to shallower water so he can climb out before the weight of his failure drags him down.
Tiercel moves back to Islas’s swollen side, his pale eyes tracing the places where her ivory is marred with shadows as if someone had poured the darkness of the lake over her head. Regret cuts like a dagger in his chest, and it sits in the air as thick as the shadows. Tiercel cannot bring himself to look into her dark eyes, so he stares at the reddened dirt beneath his feet, watching it grow muddy from the lakewater that drips off him.
“I don’t want to stop looking,” he is stubborn enough to leave his family, to refuse to apologize to Eyas and Gale, to continue searching for stars that may never be found, “but you need to rest. The baby could be here any day.” Tiercel cannot imagine the exhaustion and aching she must feel, especially as she loyally trudges out with him each time he begins searching again. He is amazed by Islas, by her determination to go with him, by her ability to bear the weight of their child without complaint.
“Let’s go find something to eat. How does that sound?” It would be good for both of them to find something; without the sun to provide nutrients the plants have grown weary and wilted, but Tiercel has made another mission out of finding the best meals for Islas.
He dives down anyway, a clumsy swimmer at best, and kicks his legs until he feels the bottom of the lake. It is smooth rock, washed soft by a river that must have run here decades ago. Tiercel touches it with his nose, and the rock is so cold it feels like something has bitten him. It feels like what he imagines touching a star might feel like (he doesn’t fully understand that the faintly-glowing woman at the edge of the lake is a star, that he has touched her soft skin and it has not bitten him), and his heart sinks even further.
It is madness to think the stars might be hidden at the bottom of a Loessian lake.
With a nose stinging from the chill of the rock, with a heart heavy with disappointment, with lungs burning for air — Tiercel pushes off the bottom of the lake and swims through the pure black. His face breaks the surface first, and he sucks in a quick, deep breath. The lungful of air doesn’t settle the wild array of emotions that seem to pull him back toward the lake’s bottom; he swims to shallower water so he can climb out before the weight of his failure drags him down.
Tiercel moves back to Islas’s swollen side, his pale eyes tracing the places where her ivory is marred with shadows as if someone had poured the darkness of the lake over her head. Regret cuts like a dagger in his chest, and it sits in the air as thick as the shadows. Tiercel cannot bring himself to look into her dark eyes, so he stares at the reddened dirt beneath his feet, watching it grow muddy from the lakewater that drips off him.
“I don’t want to stop looking,” he is stubborn enough to leave his family, to refuse to apologize to Eyas and Gale, to continue searching for stars that may never be found, “but you need to rest. The baby could be here any day.” Tiercel cannot imagine the exhaustion and aching she must feel, especially as she loyally trudges out with him each time he begins searching again. He is amazed by Islas, by her determination to go with him, by her ability to bear the weight of their child without complaint.
“Let’s go find something to eat. How does that sound?” It would be good for both of them to find something; without the sun to provide nutrients the plants have grown weary and wilted, but Tiercel has made another mission out of finding the best meals for Islas.
tiercel.
@[Islas]