10-08-2018, 12:15 PM
Shiya
Shiya’s eyes tear open, her lungs desperately gasp for air. She is awake and alive, her body no longer submerged in the dark depths of the ocean. Although she aches (gaping wounds still continue to slightly drain from each shoulder) from where the world split her flesh, at least she is back on land. Rivulets of her blood streamed from her body into the cancerous soul of Pangea. There had been a few minutes that she thought herself dead; once, she thought death’s icy hand was clutching her throat, but it had been a dream. It had been the only illusion because everything else was entirely real. The pain, the suffering, the fear.
All of it.
The edge of hot air burns her lungs, the summer so heavily contrasted to the frigid ocean depths. As her heart panics against her chest Shiya tries to realize that she isn’t suffocating, that she no longer needs water to breathe. It takes a few moments as her eyes dart back and forth among the towering trees. ”Home,” she whispers, her voice a painful rasp. Although she truly has no home, she is at least rooted to the ground and no longer drawn to a gangrenous heart below the tide. Here is at least a place she can survive and live.
But her mind doesn’t immediately revert to her personal necessities. Shiya instead allows her thoughts to roam and return to Vulgaris. Was it truly him on the ocean floor, disintegrated and lethal? Was it truly him that she had no other option than to kill? The look in his eyes were lethal, hungry, and she desperately tried to elude him, but he reached for her throat. There had been no other choice. The memory of it stabs and twists into her heart, drawing a tear from her slit eyes as they peer up to the sky. Knowing only one way to confirm, Shiya rises to her feet and retreats to Loess.
She wants – no, needs – confirmation that he is alive or dead. Wasn’t it only days ago that she cradled against his side, pressing her scales to his own and resting sweet kisses along his jawline? With her heart in her throat, Shiya follows what she presumes to be the strongest trail of his scent, hounding him until her eyes blink to see him. Pressing onward with swift desperation, she reaches him but hesitates to touch. ”Are you really here?” It would be a confusing question, but the concern in her eyes laces into the trembling of her voice. ”I thought you were dead. I thought I—“ she doesn’t want to say it, hoping the silence of it would make it all a lie. She didn’t murder him, right? He is here, standing in front of her, right?
With panting breaths, she wistfully groans, ”Hold me, and never let me go.”
All of it.
The edge of hot air burns her lungs, the summer so heavily contrasted to the frigid ocean depths. As her heart panics against her chest Shiya tries to realize that she isn’t suffocating, that she no longer needs water to breathe. It takes a few moments as her eyes dart back and forth among the towering trees. ”Home,” she whispers, her voice a painful rasp. Although she truly has no home, she is at least rooted to the ground and no longer drawn to a gangrenous heart below the tide. Here is at least a place she can survive and live.
But her mind doesn’t immediately revert to her personal necessities. Shiya instead allows her thoughts to roam and return to Vulgaris. Was it truly him on the ocean floor, disintegrated and lethal? Was it truly him that she had no other option than to kill? The look in his eyes were lethal, hungry, and she desperately tried to elude him, but he reached for her throat. There had been no other choice. The memory of it stabs and twists into her heart, drawing a tear from her slit eyes as they peer up to the sky. Knowing only one way to confirm, Shiya rises to her feet and retreats to Loess.
She wants – no, needs – confirmation that he is alive or dead. Wasn’t it only days ago that she cradled against his side, pressing her scales to his own and resting sweet kisses along his jawline? With her heart in her throat, Shiya follows what she presumes to be the strongest trail of his scent, hounding him until her eyes blink to see him. Pressing onward with swift desperation, she reaches him but hesitates to touch. ”Are you really here?” It would be a confusing question, but the concern in her eyes laces into the trembling of her voice. ”I thought you were dead. I thought I—“ she doesn’t want to say it, hoping the silence of it would make it all a lie. She didn’t murder him, right? He is here, standing in front of her, right?
With panting breaths, she wistfully groans, ”Hold me, and never let me go.”
For you, I'd give my last breath
@[vulgaris]