03-01-2021, 02:06 AM
it’s a lonely road, I know,
and nothing ever stands between a bullet and your soul --
It was not like her to leave Tephra, but the moment that they—her family—had made the connection that it was Rare causing their nightmares and restless sleep, the guilt became impossible to ignore. Her mother and father both had tried to reassure her that they did not blame her; they knew she couldn’t help it. They knew she would never do anything like that on purpose.
And yet no matter how many times her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead or her father offered her a sympathetic smile, it did nothing to ease the guilt that was lodged so uncomfortably in the center of her chest.
She noticed that Worship had started to wander away more often, and she did not ask him to take her with him. She suspects that everyone is a little bit tired of her presence; of not sleeping, of having their dreams twisted into a nightmare, as if their waking world was not bad enough already. Since her mother was always especially attentive of her she waited until Casimira was fully engrossed in a conversation with her father—curled against him and looking at him in a way that told her for once Rare and Worship was not what she was thinking about right now—before she slipped away.
Even though there is darkness pressing all around her, she is amazed at the relief she feels once she is away from Tephra. A sigh eases from her chest, and though the guilt does not lift, it does at least seem a little lighter. She knows it’s only because she is avoiding the situation, and she has no idea how similar she is to her mother in that regard.
She spends the next few days simply drifting, not really having a particular destination in mind. When she finds a river she decides to follow it, considering she has absolutely nothing better to do. There were monsters that roamed, and she did her best to remain quiet and inconspicuous, but even in the dark, it was hard. Her coat still managed to somehow reflect the white opal even with the absolute faint amount of the light that there was, and her pale, flowered mane and tail shifted and stirred like fog in the night. She kept her blue eyes downward as she walked, using one of her favorite tactics that she did when she was having a nightmare—if she didn’t open her eyes, whatever was there wasn’t real.
If she doesn’t look at them, they won’t be real.
When she comes across the boy treading along the river bank—much closer than the path she had been walking, as she preferred the hard, dry area—she startles her at first. It makes her stop short, but with an involuntary soft gasp. Even with the rush of the river right next to them it should have been loud enough for him to hear, and realizing that it would be impossible for her to escape, she makes herself known.
“What are you doing?” she asks him, her voice so quiet that he might not hear her, but she is too timid to speak any louder.
and nothing ever stands between a bullet and your soul --
It was not like her to leave Tephra, but the moment that they—her family—had made the connection that it was Rare causing their nightmares and restless sleep, the guilt became impossible to ignore. Her mother and father both had tried to reassure her that they did not blame her; they knew she couldn’t help it. They knew she would never do anything like that on purpose.
And yet no matter how many times her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead or her father offered her a sympathetic smile, it did nothing to ease the guilt that was lodged so uncomfortably in the center of her chest.
She noticed that Worship had started to wander away more often, and she did not ask him to take her with him. She suspects that everyone is a little bit tired of her presence; of not sleeping, of having their dreams twisted into a nightmare, as if their waking world was not bad enough already. Since her mother was always especially attentive of her she waited until Casimira was fully engrossed in a conversation with her father—curled against him and looking at him in a way that told her for once Rare and Worship was not what she was thinking about right now—before she slipped away.
Even though there is darkness pressing all around her, she is amazed at the relief she feels once she is away from Tephra. A sigh eases from her chest, and though the guilt does not lift, it does at least seem a little lighter. She knows it’s only because she is avoiding the situation, and she has no idea how similar she is to her mother in that regard.
She spends the next few days simply drifting, not really having a particular destination in mind. When she finds a river she decides to follow it, considering she has absolutely nothing better to do. There were monsters that roamed, and she did her best to remain quiet and inconspicuous, but even in the dark, it was hard. Her coat still managed to somehow reflect the white opal even with the absolute faint amount of the light that there was, and her pale, flowered mane and tail shifted and stirred like fog in the night. She kept her blue eyes downward as she walked, using one of her favorite tactics that she did when she was having a nightmare—if she didn’t open her eyes, whatever was there wasn’t real.
If she doesn’t look at them, they won’t be real.
When she comes across the boy treading along the river bank—much closer than the path she had been walking, as she preferred the hard, dry area—she startles her at first. It makes her stop short, but with an involuntary soft gasp. Even with the rush of the river right next to them it should have been loud enough for him to hear, and realizing that it would be impossible for her to escape, she makes herself known.
“What are you doing?” she asks him, her voice so quiet that he might not hear her, but she is too timid to speak any louder.
-- rare.
@[The Monsters] can you mess with her serial immortality please <3
@[Reave]