12-17-2015, 04:01 PM
All things are possible, even the worst of things.
It feels foreign, yet so incredibly right, those shadows. They shift and crawl, clinging to him like brambles. They are familiar, yet not, a substance he had always been meant to wield, but fate had only seen fit to grant it to him now. Now, in his darkest hour, when his soul had been stained black by murder, he had been granted the terrible solace of darkness and shadow.
She is right to be afraid. He is afraid. The shadows are new and foreign (but then, they are so old and familiar too). He doesn’t know their strength. He doesn’t know his own strength.
He apologizes to her because he cannot help himself. He had failed her. He had failed her so badly, and she does not even know. She does not even know him well enough to know. That simple truth shines a cold, unfeeling light on just how badly he had failed.
The thought startles a strangled laugh from him. There is no humor in that laugh, only disbelief and self-recrimination. Would she know once he told her his name? Would she understand then?
She must, for he cannot believe that his (their) mother would have failed in informing her of her siblings. Would she hate him for it? Surely, she would. He hates himself for it (and for so many other things, but that most of all).
No, I…
He starts, but he stops again, his breath shuddering in his lungs as he tries to steady himself. As he prepares to tell her the truth. Prepares to give her a thousand reasons (though in truth she needs only the one) to hate him.
But maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t hate him. Maybe she would only be disappointed. He can handle disappointment. He’s had so much practice at it.
Shahrizai.
He whispers his name, almost like a talisman that might ward him against her disappointment. Except that it is the thing that would cause it. He can’t even meet her eyes when he says it. He doesn’t want to see the look that will enter that hazel gaze once comprehension sinks in.
She is right to be afraid. He is afraid. The shadows are new and foreign (but then, they are so old and familiar too). He doesn’t know their strength. He doesn’t know his own strength.
He apologizes to her because he cannot help himself. He had failed her. He had failed her so badly, and she does not even know. She does not even know him well enough to know. That simple truth shines a cold, unfeeling light on just how badly he had failed.
The thought startles a strangled laugh from him. There is no humor in that laugh, only disbelief and self-recrimination. Would she know once he told her his name? Would she understand then?
She must, for he cannot believe that his (their) mother would have failed in informing her of her siblings. Would she hate him for it? Surely, she would. He hates himself for it (and for so many other things, but that most of all).
No, I…
He starts, but he stops again, his breath shuddering in his lungs as he tries to steady himself. As he prepares to tell her the truth. Prepares to give her a thousand reasons (though in truth she needs only the one) to hate him.
But maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t hate him. Maybe she would only be disappointed. He can handle disappointment. He’s had so much practice at it.
Shahrizai.
He whispers his name, almost like a talisman that might ward him against her disappointment. Except that it is the thing that would cause it. He can’t even meet her eyes when he says it. He doesn’t want to see the look that will enter that hazel gaze once comprehension sinks in.
shahrizai
hestoni x scorch
Oh wow. He's so melodrama and angst :|