01-02-2021, 05:53 PM
You think I'll be the Dark Sky so you can be the Star?
I'll Swallow you Whole.
I'll Swallow you Whole.
She had once loved the dark.
She has spent her life – this life, at least – waiting for it. Because with the dark there came the stars, and with the stars she almost felt alive. Even alone, without Tiercel, she could stare at the stars, could wrap herself in the starlight until it seeped into her veins and her bones, and that slow pulse inside of her chest would find a rhythm all its own.
But the dark came, and the stars never did.
The dark came, and it has not left, and she stands on a rocky ledge, staring as hard as she can into the bruised purple-black sky. She calls to them, tries to pull threads of light through the thickness of the clouds, but it is like reaching for nothing.
The sky is nothing. It is as dark and hollow as the cavern of her chest, and somewhere inside that endless chamber, there is a thread of panic trying to claw through.
She turns abruptly from the outlook, descends down the well-worn path. She follows one that is familiar only to her, follows previously traveled steps that lead her back to him. In the weeks that had followed since their first reunion, she found herself going back to him repeatedly, in a way that she never has with anyone. Does she miss him when she is away? She hasn’t figured that out yet, has not been able to discern between emotionally missing him and physically craving him.
It does not matter, though, because either way, she goes back to him. She is anchored to him in a way that she cannot shake, and not just for the way her sides have started to grow and swell with his child – anchored in a way that she will never be able to name.
“Tiercel,” she says once she is close enough, and she does not pause in her approach. She draws herself alongside him and brushes her pale nose against his shoulder. She ignores, for now, the way the warmth of his skin still feels like sparks against her own. Her dark eyes look to the sky, and even in the hollowed, quiet of her voice there is a noticeable confusion that settles there. “The stars. They're gone.” Her white shoulder rests against his, and she notices for the first time that the glow that usually radiated from her had dimmed considerably, and that brings with it a new wave of panic. It’s a dull, steady feeling, like a tide rising to meet the shore – slowly, until it floods her all at once. “I don't know what this means. I don’t...I don't know what to do.”
She has spent her life – this life, at least – waiting for it. Because with the dark there came the stars, and with the stars she almost felt alive. Even alone, without Tiercel, she could stare at the stars, could wrap herself in the starlight until it seeped into her veins and her bones, and that slow pulse inside of her chest would find a rhythm all its own.
But the dark came, and the stars never did.
The dark came, and it has not left, and she stands on a rocky ledge, staring as hard as she can into the bruised purple-black sky. She calls to them, tries to pull threads of light through the thickness of the clouds, but it is like reaching for nothing.
The sky is nothing. It is as dark and hollow as the cavern of her chest, and somewhere inside that endless chamber, there is a thread of panic trying to claw through.
She turns abruptly from the outlook, descends down the well-worn path. She follows one that is familiar only to her, follows previously traveled steps that lead her back to him. In the weeks that had followed since their first reunion, she found herself going back to him repeatedly, in a way that she never has with anyone. Does she miss him when she is away? She hasn’t figured that out yet, has not been able to discern between emotionally missing him and physically craving him.
It does not matter, though, because either way, she goes back to him. She is anchored to him in a way that she cannot shake, and not just for the way her sides have started to grow and swell with his child – anchored in a way that she will never be able to name.
“Tiercel,” she says once she is close enough, and she does not pause in her approach. She draws herself alongside him and brushes her pale nose against his shoulder. She ignores, for now, the way the warmth of his skin still feels like sparks against her own. Her dark eyes look to the sky, and even in the hollowed, quiet of her voice there is a noticeable confusion that settles there. “The stars. They're gone.” Her white shoulder rests against his, and she notices for the first time that the glow that usually radiated from her had dimmed considerably, and that brings with it a new wave of panic. It’s a dull, steady feeling, like a tide rising to meet the shore – slowly, until it floods her all at once. “I don't know what this means. I don’t...I don't know what to do.”
Islas
@[Tiercel]