05-01-2017, 08:14 PM
i'm not going to change, so stay out of my way.
i don't need you to understand that i'm already saved.
There is a soothing comfort in the gentle silence that lingers between them; filling the gaping void that has begun to fester inside of her chest – an embittered wound, raw at the edges – quieted by his presence alone. His warmth is calming, seeping into the numb layer of skin that has become dulled by the frigid air and icy mist of the sea – her feathers, usually finely preened into perfected rows along the hollow bones of her wings, lay limp and dredged in moisture. Her carefree, tousled tresses lay painted against the pale gold of her neck; wavy tendrils wetly pressed along the line of her jaw.
She presses against him then, close enough for her shoulder to meet with his while her broad wing cusps his side, seeking his warmth and longing to be tethered to him. Her eyes are still set towards the east, the pounding, roaring waves reflecting in the hazel gleam of her eye as a breath that had been held for far too long exhaled from her lungs. Even breathing seemed difficult now – a slow, laborious undertaking, one which stirred the painful ache inside of her chest with each rise and fall, and thus a bitter love and hate relationship has formed for the impossibly necessary task.
Soon, her gaze is searching the hardened lines of his face, studying the shadow in the hollow of his cheek, and the slope along the bridge of his nose where his cheekbone and forehead meet. Quietly, her whiskered lips touch along his forehead, brushing the heavy and damp forelock that lay in the way of his eyes. ”I am nothing but titles, Warrick,” she murmurs thoughtfully, her brow furrowing slightly – though a shadow of a smile remains. ”Head of War. A mother. A lover. An enemy. That is all we are, in the end – titles.”
And then, his gaze is lost again to the sea – and she can see the very same tumultuous, troubled glint in his eyes that she knows must be in her own. It is only a single, solitary moment drowning amid a million others that have come and will go, but time suddenly seems to come to a halt. The soft, whispering breeze coming to a halt, and the deafening sea still and motionless – as the flattened edge of her nose presses beneath the crooked ridge of his jaw, nestling her forehead beneath his chin. There, she can hear his heartbeat, hammering erratically, churning painfully inside of the taut confinement of his chest.
The silence has returned, vacant and empty and hollow, as the crooning of seagulls melds in with the sound of the waves making love to the jagged, volcanic rock that outlines the shore. Ellyse, he murmurs, and she draws herself away just enough to meet his eye, to see the ache tucked away within his dark irises. There, a confession is unraveled, and he is pleading – his voice ragged, rife with emotion. I cannot keep my head above water for much longer.
”No,” she murmurs, her brow furrowing again as a gentle nudge is given to his cheek, her eyes settled on the edges of indigo along his dark mouth. ”you are stronger than the tide, Warrick. I know you are. Whatever it is that is hurting you – whatever secrets you carry, you cannot let them be your anchor. We must find anchor in something else, in anything else – anything we can.”
She presses against him then, close enough for her shoulder to meet with his while her broad wing cusps his side, seeking his warmth and longing to be tethered to him. Her eyes are still set towards the east, the pounding, roaring waves reflecting in the hazel gleam of her eye as a breath that had been held for far too long exhaled from her lungs. Even breathing seemed difficult now – a slow, laborious undertaking, one which stirred the painful ache inside of her chest with each rise and fall, and thus a bitter love and hate relationship has formed for the impossibly necessary task.
Soon, her gaze is searching the hardened lines of his face, studying the shadow in the hollow of his cheek, and the slope along the bridge of his nose where his cheekbone and forehead meet. Quietly, her whiskered lips touch along his forehead, brushing the heavy and damp forelock that lay in the way of his eyes. ”I am nothing but titles, Warrick,” she murmurs thoughtfully, her brow furrowing slightly – though a shadow of a smile remains. ”Head of War. A mother. A lover. An enemy. That is all we are, in the end – titles.”
And then, his gaze is lost again to the sea – and she can see the very same tumultuous, troubled glint in his eyes that she knows must be in her own. It is only a single, solitary moment drowning amid a million others that have come and will go, but time suddenly seems to come to a halt. The soft, whispering breeze coming to a halt, and the deafening sea still and motionless – as the flattened edge of her nose presses beneath the crooked ridge of his jaw, nestling her forehead beneath his chin. There, she can hear his heartbeat, hammering erratically, churning painfully inside of the taut confinement of his chest.
The silence has returned, vacant and empty and hollow, as the crooning of seagulls melds in with the sound of the waves making love to the jagged, volcanic rock that outlines the shore. Ellyse, he murmurs, and she draws herself away just enough to meet his eye, to see the ache tucked away within his dark irises. There, a confession is unraveled, and he is pleading – his voice ragged, rife with emotion. I cannot keep my head above water for much longer.
”No,” she murmurs, her brow furrowing again as a gentle nudge is given to his cheek, her eyes settled on the edges of indigo along his dark mouth. ”you are stronger than the tide, Warrick. I know you are. Whatever it is that is hurting you – whatever secrets you carry, you cannot let them be your anchor. We must find anchor in something else, in anything else – anything we can.”
Ellyse
@[Warrick]