jamie
02-08-2021, 12:01 PM
Jamie
The shadow thing is a fool.
He understands that now.
Such an ugly thing to realize.
But there is such a soft warmth that rolls off her when he touches her and he remembers. He remembers how desperately she had wanted to help him, how wounded she had been when he’d denied her, how clear she had made it then that they were not friends.
What are they now?
They are bonded. They are intertwined on a visceral level.
Together they have seen Death. Together they have conquered it.
He feels it now when he never could have before. The shiver that steals down the length of her spine. The surrender. And there is only the space of a breath before she reaches for him and offers him this gift. And his own body twinges and spasms with her pain, a phantom pain that tears through him, reminds him who he was once.
(Funny that he had not allowed her to help him in their youth but it had been her who had ultimately rescued him after all. Her sacrifice that had brought the darkness, her sacrifice that had brought him victory.)
How splendid a thing it is to watch it unfold through her eyes. To feel it as she felt it. He does not understand these things: joy, love; but they pulse in his chest all the same. He exhales a rattling breath and forces open his own freakish eyes as the shadows writhe around them, grappling. There, a shark-tooth smile as he moves to press his ink-black mouth to her forehead.
And then he tries something new. He tries to press his thought into her mind, “you are extraordinary.” Then, as if this experiment has dug up another memory, he pulls his mouth away and asks out loud, “when did your voice return?”
He understands that now.
Such an ugly thing to realize.
But there is such a soft warmth that rolls off her when he touches her and he remembers. He remembers how desperately she had wanted to help him, how wounded she had been when he’d denied her, how clear she had made it then that they were not friends.
What are they now?
They are bonded. They are intertwined on a visceral level.
Together they have seen Death. Together they have conquered it.
He feels it now when he never could have before. The shiver that steals down the length of her spine. The surrender. And there is only the space of a breath before she reaches for him and offers him this gift. And his own body twinges and spasms with her pain, a phantom pain that tears through him, reminds him who he was once.
(Funny that he had not allowed her to help him in their youth but it had been her who had ultimately rescued him after all. Her sacrifice that had brought the darkness, her sacrifice that had brought him victory.)
How splendid a thing it is to watch it unfold through her eyes. To feel it as she felt it. He does not understand these things: joy, love; but they pulse in his chest all the same. He exhales a rattling breath and forces open his own freakish eyes as the shadows writhe around them, grappling. There, a shark-tooth smile as he moves to press his ink-black mouth to her forehead.
And then he tries something new. He tries to press his thought into her mind, “you are extraordinary.” Then, as if this experiment has dug up another memory, he pulls his mouth away and asks out loud, “when did your voice return?”
( FROM THE DESTRUCTION, OUT OF THE FLAME
YOU NEED A VILLAIN, GIVE ME A NAME )
YOU NEED A VILLAIN, GIVE ME A NAME )
@[Beyza]