09-20-2017, 09:31 PM
Canaan
And maybe, I'll find out a way to make it back someday.
To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.
To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.
To see his children, his firstborn, two cut from the very same cloth as he and yet filled with such hatred and resentment; it is almost too much for him to watch .. but he does. It is the least that he can do, to be the brunt of their anger, and their heartache. He had not been the steady presence he longed to be upon the day of their birth. He had looked upon Corvus, a deep marigold with emerald, and dark wings folded against his slender barrel – he had imagined teaching him flight, and his brother, Crevan, a pale cream with the navy of his mother’s haphazard tresses – he had imagined showing him all that nature had to offer; all that his own wanderlust had given to him.
Beautiful, and without flaw, he had looked upon his sons then, newly birthed and shaky on spindly legs – and now, fully grown, with a shadow of doubt, of bitterness and swallowed bile, and he is hopeless.
He is hopeless to change what has already been done – and his heart, raggedly beating inside of his chest, is left broken and splintered as he finally sees what destruction had been left behind in the wake of his absence. The sheer enthrallment of lips brushing across skin, of the warmth of another heart beating in time with his own – all is forgotten in that moment, and it is almost as if he had caught within a fleeting moment of time – as if the world around him is moving forward, and he is left, breathless and caught in the stillness of all that he had lost, and all that would always be as broken as it had become.
He does not try to stop them –
Either one of them.
Their anger and wretched grief are not out of place, and he is all too aware that no good will come of his interference. He is silent, watchful - he can feel the subtle change in the wind; it is as much a part of him as the blood in his own veins and the heart in his chest. He is in awe, as pride fills the empty cavity beneath his breast, knowing that one of his one carries his own gift with him – followed by misery that he had not been able to teach him all of the potential within the power he possessed.
His dark mouth presses to Circinae’s neck, brushing away a stray lock from the skin that lay there – a small gesture of comfort, as his hazel gaze rises to meet with the soulful eyes of the one chosen to guard her heart in his absence. Jah-Lilah is fierce, passionate, and fervent with a heat he is drawn to, that rouses his heart into the same rapid pitter-patter that his beloved wolf so often did – and there is no part of him that denies how it seemed as if she was always meant to be, caressing Circinae, preening Canaan – and his mouth murmurs softly against her mahogany skin, barely rising above the gentle zephyr left in Corvus’ wake.
”We are all that we need. I will follow you, Circinae, to whatever end – lead the way.”
If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all,
then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.
then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.