06-16-2021, 03:08 AM
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 does not often think of all the ways she still fails at being everything Tiercel would need, mostly because it is not something with the ability to cross her mind.
Learning how to feel the most basic of emotions had taken years, and it was only recently that she had developed what she thought of as real emotions, even if they were limited to just Tiercel and their daughter. She could look at him and feel the warmth of love flood her veins and had learned to recognize the way being alongside him felt like home, just as she could look at Kamaria and feel her heart squeeze with pride. But things like insecurity, or the ability to get lost in the tangled web of her own mind until self-doubt has twisted reality into something unrecognizable, was not something she was familiar with.
It’s why when doubt first begins to spread in her chest she does not fully see it for what it is and does not understand why it begins to unfurl like shadows when he tells her his nightmares are too difficult to explain.
She does not realize that that gnawing at the far reaches of her mind is her wondering if he would be more open if she were normal—if she knew all the things to say and all the ways to act if she knew how to be softer.
The doubt is only there briefly, blown away like smoke on a strong breeze, and though the remnants of it might linger, it is easy enough for her to ignore.
“I understand,” she says with a gentle touch to his glowing chest, trailing her nose mindlessly back to trace the shadow of a rib in its fading light. And she does understand, she thinks. She is not the best at explaining things either, which is why she so rarely does. It is a miracle Tiercel ever understands anything from her, truthfully, though she supposes his affinity for emotions comes into play. “I would take it all away from you if I could,” she tells him once she has turned to level her dark eyes with his again, a heavy sincerity weighing down the usual silvery, if somewhat monotonous, tone of her voice. And she would if only there were a way; if she could carry all of his pain in her own heart, or if she could trap his nightmares into starlight and send them away into the sky, she would.
She would let it rain nightmare-infused stardust onto some other land if it meant bringing him peace, and his touch against her side is the only thing that drags her from getting lost in crafting a plan to do just that.
“Somehow things are both easier and harder than last time,” she tells him with a small smile, tilting her head just enough to take in the large curve of her barrel. The world was normal, and she did not feel the crushing exhaustion that the eclipse had caused, but carrying twins was still no easy task. It was a strange thing, to do something so entirely mortal—to carry children and to birth them, to raise them without them ever knowing what it means to live in the galaxies above them. To have one child was a situation she had never envisioned herself being in, but to go through it all again—and with twins, no less—was even more surprising, yet she finds that she does not regret it in the least.
“I’m fine, though,” she reassures him, catching his eye with another faint smile. “Just restless.” She is certain that it won't be much longer, though she cannot ignore the faint pinpricks of anxiety at the thought of that. Kamaria had been born under unusual circumstances, and she can only assume that level of panic and adrenaline was not the norm. Leaning into him once more, with her pale shoulder resting against his and her nose tucked into his chest, she reveals quietly, “And I’m glad that you get to be here, this time.”
Learning how to feel the most basic of emotions had taken years, and it was only recently that she had developed what she thought of as real emotions, even if they were limited to just Tiercel and their daughter. She could look at him and feel the warmth of love flood her veins and had learned to recognize the way being alongside him felt like home, just as she could look at Kamaria and feel her heart squeeze with pride. But things like insecurity, or the ability to get lost in the tangled web of her own mind until self-doubt has twisted reality into something unrecognizable, was not something she was familiar with.
It’s why when doubt first begins to spread in her chest she does not fully see it for what it is and does not understand why it begins to unfurl like shadows when he tells her his nightmares are too difficult to explain.
She does not realize that that gnawing at the far reaches of her mind is her wondering if he would be more open if she were normal—if she knew all the things to say and all the ways to act if she knew how to be softer.
The doubt is only there briefly, blown away like smoke on a strong breeze, and though the remnants of it might linger, it is easy enough for her to ignore.
“I understand,” she says with a gentle touch to his glowing chest, trailing her nose mindlessly back to trace the shadow of a rib in its fading light. And she does understand, she thinks. She is not the best at explaining things either, which is why she so rarely does. It is a miracle Tiercel ever understands anything from her, truthfully, though she supposes his affinity for emotions comes into play. “I would take it all away from you if I could,” she tells him once she has turned to level her dark eyes with his again, a heavy sincerity weighing down the usual silvery, if somewhat monotonous, tone of her voice. And she would if only there were a way; if she could carry all of his pain in her own heart, or if she could trap his nightmares into starlight and send them away into the sky, she would.
She would let it rain nightmare-infused stardust onto some other land if it meant bringing him peace, and his touch against her side is the only thing that drags her from getting lost in crafting a plan to do just that.
“Somehow things are both easier and harder than last time,” she tells him with a small smile, tilting her head just enough to take in the large curve of her barrel. The world was normal, and she did not feel the crushing exhaustion that the eclipse had caused, but carrying twins was still no easy task. It was a strange thing, to do something so entirely mortal—to carry children and to birth them, to raise them without them ever knowing what it means to live in the galaxies above them. To have one child was a situation she had never envisioned herself being in, but to go through it all again—and with twins, no less—was even more surprising, yet she finds that she does not regret it in the least.
“I’m fine, though,” she reassures him, catching his eye with another faint smile. “Just restless.” She is certain that it won't be much longer, though she cannot ignore the faint pinpricks of anxiety at the thought of that. Kamaria had been born under unusual circumstances, and she can only assume that level of panic and adrenaline was not the norm. Leaning into him once more, with her pale shoulder resting against his and her nose tucked into his chest, she reveals quietly, “And I’m glad that you get to be here, this time.”
Islas
@[Tiercel]