the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity; kensley

[kensley]

i took the poison praying you'd feel it, too i wrapped my neck and prayed that you'd feel the noose She takes one step toward him. Stops herself short before he has to ask her to. Please, he would have said, don’t come any closer. I cannot stand the kindness, I don’t deserve it. But she saves him the trouble and he supposes he’s grateful for it. Perhaps he’d been worried that she might touch him. That she might taste the blood and the grief on his skin. That she might think differently of him should she catch a glimpse of the reality of him. Would it be the worst thing? She has afforded him mercy that he does not deserve in healing the tired muscles and the aching joints. How strange that he should come across someone whose magic allowed them to heal while his newly inherited magic only allowed him to destroy. The silence is thin but he makes no effort to disturb it. She asks her innocuous question and then volunteers information he wouldn’t have known how to ask for. Something cold and dark stirs in the center of his chest. He swallows thickly as he levels his stare with her face again. “Who is your mother?” he asks, quiet. Because he’s not certain he wants to know. Because he’d loved the queen of the Chamber once and she had also looked as if she’d been born from a storm cloud. shattered son of jarris and plumeria