03-07-2021, 05:16 PM
kensley
i swore the days were over of courting empty dreams
She comes, though he would not have dreamed of asking her to.
Materializes as if from her own shadows and if there were a beating heart in that chest it would have clenched with how fiercely he loves her.
How fiercely he has always loved her, from the very first moment he laid eyes on her so many years ago. It feels like it must have been a century ago now, before the Chamber had been swallowed by the earth. Before so many things.
There is no hint of judgment in those eyes when she looks at him now, no disgust in that voice when she addresses him. It sounds so sweetly of forgiveness. Acceptance. He wants to reach for her but he doesn’t. Instead, he steadily returns her gaze and lets that be enough. This quiet understanding.
“No,” he says, the truth. The heart, though it does not beat, has been thawed. So he smiles, though it is muted, lopsided. Wry. He would not have let himself imagine this. “How could I have imagined this?” he asks, tilts his head, smiling softly still.
(It starts in the heart.)
(A static charge.)
(One sideways beat, a breath that hitches in his throat.)
(And then a second. An electric jolt that takes him to his knees.)
Something nips at his heels and he coughs as a plume of dust settles in his throat.
It is a painful thing, the process of coming back to life. The rush of blood as it awakens the veins and the nerves. The cramping of the heart as it begins to beat again. The lungs seizing as they fill with air and the way they spasm as he coughs up so many years’ worth of dust. His sides heave with the effort and his limbs tremble when, finally, he rises to his feet again.
“Ana,” he gasps, every inch of his living body aching, eyes wide as he seeks out her gaze in the dark.
Materializes as if from her own shadows and if there were a beating heart in that chest it would have clenched with how fiercely he loves her.
How fiercely he has always loved her, from the very first moment he laid eyes on her so many years ago. It feels like it must have been a century ago now, before the Chamber had been swallowed by the earth. Before so many things.
There is no hint of judgment in those eyes when she looks at him now, no disgust in that voice when she addresses him. It sounds so sweetly of forgiveness. Acceptance. He wants to reach for her but he doesn’t. Instead, he steadily returns her gaze and lets that be enough. This quiet understanding.
“No,” he says, the truth. The heart, though it does not beat, has been thawed. So he smiles, though it is muted, lopsided. Wry. He would not have let himself imagine this. “How could I have imagined this?” he asks, tilts his head, smiling softly still.
(It starts in the heart.)
(A static charge.)
(One sideways beat, a breath that hitches in his throat.)
(And then a second. An electric jolt that takes him to his knees.)
Something nips at his heels and he coughs as a plume of dust settles in his throat.
It is a painful thing, the process of coming back to life. The rush of blood as it awakens the veins and the nerves. The cramping of the heart as it begins to beat again. The lungs seizing as they fill with air and the way they spasm as he coughs up so many years’ worth of dust. His sides heave with the effort and his limbs tremble when, finally, he rises to his feet again.
“Ana,” he gasps, every inch of his living body aching, eyes wide as he seeks out her gaze in the dark.
i worshipped at the altar of losing everything
@[Anaxarete] yay ana feels!!!
@[The Monsters] let's try his shattering again!