10-16-2017, 06:44 PM
Ellyse
she is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness
She does not need to see the way his gaze is cast with sorrow to know that there is regret within his heart – it is laced within every word, etched into the very core of his vocal chords as his confession is breathed into the stillness of the air. She can feel it in her own – a heavy sediment of guilt and grief, weighing down her otherwise bruised and battered heart; she could only imagine that he must feel the same. Wholly helpless; unable to erase the heartache that she had seen so clearly gleam within the pale hazel of her young son’s eyes beneath the cloudiness of his unshed tears. He was too young, but she had been young, too –
When the world had been blackened by war, by death and destruction.
”He is strong,” she murmurs softly against his skin, unrelenting in her affection, tracing the shadow of his shoulder with her pale lips. ”and he will be stronger for it. He has us both – and you have no idea how worried he is about you.”
The line she so rarely crossed had been blurred, and she no longer cared for her prideful ego, nor for her self-preservation – she had thought Dahmer dead, and to feel his pulse thrumming and to hear his shallow breath fill his lungs is worth more to her than the decorum she had spent so long desperately clinging onto. It was worth more than her pride and fragmented ego, which had hurt her as deeply as it had kept her guarded.
She loves him, deeply, and she cannot hide from the frayed edge of shame that clutches so tightly to her for taking so long to realize it. It mattered not whether the connection she felt was platonic or otherwise (she is no longer foolish enough to believe she could be deserving of love in any capacity, but she loves him anyway); but she had been foolish enough to let her own vanity keep her at bay. Dahmer had been unwavering – an unmoving presence in her life unlike any other; through the heartache, through the birth of a son born out of a brief and fleeting moment of desire and the unsteady parenting and uncomfortable dynamic that had followed, through the wreckage that had become their lives in the aftermath of a malevolent dark God and his wicked sense of humor.
He was the closest friend she had ever had, and his warmth coiled against hers stirs her weary heart – she would not let another moment pass in which he is unaware of it; she would not waste the time she had left wishing it away.
But then – a bellow, echoing through the stagnant air, and her heart is thundering inside of her chest again, startling her to her unsteady legs. Her body is still seeping from the various wounds littered across her feminine frame, while the broad expanse of her winged appendages draw tightly to her barrel. Her single eye roves the dense vegetation, tracing the outline of the one her heart had so foolishly fallen for – in a time that seemed so long ago; but now her heart is only blackened by the sight of him, as her own anger (and hurt – he had been right that her heart had not been pure; that it had not been whole for him – but she loved him, and he had spurned her) resurfaces with a vengeance.
Thief of my heart, he called him, and she is incredulous, and livid – she was not one to be stolen; an object to be traded or bartered for, to be pilfered and taken and neither was her heart. It yearned for what it desired most; it guided her erroneously but passionately and it was hers and hers alone – until given to another, until crushed and scorned by another, and she is reminded so vehemently of her past, of the way love had escaped her grasp time and time again.
Like father, like son.
STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!
YOU LEFT HER TO DIE!
”ENOUGH!” she cries, as the length of her body is sheathed in diamond, glittering beneath the bright and unyielding sunlight. She aches to put an end to it, to stand between – but she cannot; Dahmer is airborne and before her eyesight is able to register the transformation, he is airborne – with outstretched, iridescent wings, with a loud caw emitted from his sharp and darkened beak.
Her heart seizes in her chest at the sight ( a hundred, of a thousand ravens clawing at her cheek, her eyes, her finely preened feathers – cawing, gnashing, lashing out – the memory is heavy on her mind) and she is filled with apprehension, but also a deep, unshakable rage. The dark God was a beast of irony, and it is not lost on her, as the bear that bore the very same claw that had gouged her eye out fought the fierce raven that had tried to suffocate her in the barren wasteland, a thousand miles and a thousand worlds away.
”Stop! Please, enough!"
When the world had been blackened by war, by death and destruction.
”He is strong,” she murmurs softly against his skin, unrelenting in her affection, tracing the shadow of his shoulder with her pale lips. ”and he will be stronger for it. He has us both – and you have no idea how worried he is about you.”
The line she so rarely crossed had been blurred, and she no longer cared for her prideful ego, nor for her self-preservation – she had thought Dahmer dead, and to feel his pulse thrumming and to hear his shallow breath fill his lungs is worth more to her than the decorum she had spent so long desperately clinging onto. It was worth more than her pride and fragmented ego, which had hurt her as deeply as it had kept her guarded.
She loves him, deeply, and she cannot hide from the frayed edge of shame that clutches so tightly to her for taking so long to realize it. It mattered not whether the connection she felt was platonic or otherwise (she is no longer foolish enough to believe she could be deserving of love in any capacity, but she loves him anyway); but she had been foolish enough to let her own vanity keep her at bay. Dahmer had been unwavering – an unmoving presence in her life unlike any other; through the heartache, through the birth of a son born out of a brief and fleeting moment of desire and the unsteady parenting and uncomfortable dynamic that had followed, through the wreckage that had become their lives in the aftermath of a malevolent dark God and his wicked sense of humor.
He was the closest friend she had ever had, and his warmth coiled against hers stirs her weary heart – she would not let another moment pass in which he is unaware of it; she would not waste the time she had left wishing it away.
But then – a bellow, echoing through the stagnant air, and her heart is thundering inside of her chest again, startling her to her unsteady legs. Her body is still seeping from the various wounds littered across her feminine frame, while the broad expanse of her winged appendages draw tightly to her barrel. Her single eye roves the dense vegetation, tracing the outline of the one her heart had so foolishly fallen for – in a time that seemed so long ago; but now her heart is only blackened by the sight of him, as her own anger (and hurt – he had been right that her heart had not been pure; that it had not been whole for him – but she loved him, and he had spurned her) resurfaces with a vengeance.
Thief of my heart, he called him, and she is incredulous, and livid – she was not one to be stolen; an object to be traded or bartered for, to be pilfered and taken and neither was her heart. It yearned for what it desired most; it guided her erroneously but passionately and it was hers and hers alone – until given to another, until crushed and scorned by another, and she is reminded so vehemently of her past, of the way love had escaped her grasp time and time again.
Like father, like son.
STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!
YOU LEFT HER TO DIE!
”ENOUGH!” she cries, as the length of her body is sheathed in diamond, glittering beneath the bright and unyielding sunlight. She aches to put an end to it, to stand between – but she cannot; Dahmer is airborne and before her eyesight is able to register the transformation, he is airborne – with outstretched, iridescent wings, with a loud caw emitted from his sharp and darkened beak.
Her heart seizes in her chest at the sight ( a hundred, of a thousand ravens clawing at her cheek, her eyes, her finely preened feathers – cawing, gnashing, lashing out – the memory is heavy on her mind) and she is filled with apprehension, but also a deep, unshakable rage. The dark God was a beast of irony, and it is not lost on her, as the bear that bore the very same claw that had gouged her eye out fought the fierce raven that had tried to suffocate her in the barren wasteland, a thousand miles and a thousand worlds away.
”Stop! Please, enough!"
she rules her life like a fine skylark, and when the sky is starless
@[Dahmer] @[Ledger]