Bound for trouble from the start
I've been walking through this old world in the dark
It is different to have her tucked into her side. Not with the passionate need like there was with the Head of War. This was different. Despite the heat of her flesh against the coolness of his own skin, he does not recoil. The way she tucks herself into his side, almost like a little sister and yet decisively…Not. It reminds him in a way of Soliel. He hadn’t seen his half sister in years but she had always been overly kind to him once she had discovered him and his morbid life. She had tucked the young colt to her side much like this, giving him the first taste of affection in his hard young life.
There’s something else that lingers in the sensation of her against him, they way his insides threaten to melt in rebellion of her fire. With a pang of guilt he thinks of Ellyse but it’s quickly chased away remembering the looks she and Dahmer had given each other over Smoak’s newborn head. There was nothing to feel ashamed of. He was alone, he had no-one.
Her breath is sweet, fading out the usual assault of ash, soot, and salt that he has come to know of Tephra. Their muzzles rest gently against each other for a few precarious heartbeats, enough to make him wonder what exactly he was doing. She is engaging and despite what she may think, innocent. A far more jaded and pure thing then himself. Suddenly, her story comes spilling out. Hesitant at first but growing with confidence the more she warms to her story. He is flattered that she thinks him that worthy of her trust, quietly listening.
A soft sizzling sound is heard and he visibly winces as her heat becomes too much, the bear becoming angry within. His heart palpates with agony and for a moment he flickers between hooves and claws. She moves away and he slowly relaxes, concentrating once more on her words. Hers is a story of heartbreak, so common and yet every tale could be different. Before he may not be able to comprehend that kind of internal pain but now… With Ellyse feeling so far from him, he gets it. He understands the betrayal, the rise of fury that makes her gnash her teeth and flushes her cheeks.
When she comes close to her conclusion, when he can see something go out in her eyes, he feels deeply for her. There’s still a steely glint to them as she fixes his good eye in her frame. All too aware of his own diminished self, as his hip bones protrude from his emaciated body. Knowing she had felt the poke of his ribcage where it jutted from his side. This is something he also knows too well, giving up. Not having the will to care anymore. Once she has come to her conclusion of how the fire had consumed her, had chosen her in a way, she has left him with much to think about. The feeling of her rubbing against him slowly bringing him back to the present. ”I don’t mind.” He finally states quietly, looking at her with new respect.
”You didn’t have to tell me that… But I’m glad you did. It seems we have more in common then I thought..” A soft laughter that fades as quickly as it came. A pause as the soft sea breeze dances through his tangled flaxen locks, lifting them slightly as they graze against her neck. "You deserve better then that Spark.” No longer looking at her but out into some distant view in the horizon. For the first time, he considers telling his story. He had never shared it with anyone from point A-Z. The girl of glass had gotten some from him (and he wonders where she is, if she’s ok) but not all. Yet she had shared so much of herself, he feels obligated to do the same.
Hesitantly, with her sometimes tucked up beside him, he begins. Not looking at her, not wanting to see her reactions. Pausing now and then when his throat constricts, when it becomes to hard. Telling her of his birth, when Chernobyl had stolen his mother away from him mere seconds after being born. The cruelty of her murder, making him watch. She tells him of living with Librette, Chernobyl’s mother, in the Dale where he had been pawned off on her. Of knowing the identity of his true father, Magnus. Of having to watch Magnus and Libby together but not being able to tell him who he was, in fear of losing his life.
He tells her of not knowing affection until he was much older, when Magnus learned the truth. Of the strained relationship between them, how Magnus had died and then come back. He tells her of wandering different lands but always coming back to Beqanna, back home. He tells her of the Gates, how it had never felt quite right but it was all he ever really had to feel safe. He tells her of Adaline, a girl made of glass. Precarious and fragile, how she had taught him how little looks mattered. That the heart was what made them beautiful. And she had been beautiful, inside and out. Lost to him now, lost before he could ever tell her that.
The hardest part is the time spent in Carnage’s lair. In detail he explains being chased by the hounds to the cavern. Being locked in a cage. Forced into trial after trial. Having to confront Magnus and kill him, Carnage plunging an icicle into his heart. Dying and being brought back to life as an ice wraith. Fighting the polar bear that took his eye, the brand burned into his side. Painfully he recounts having to kill a version of himself, ripping his own heart out and offering it on a silver platter for Carnage to take. Earning him his freedom.
How he had discovered the bear, the shame he felt when Magnus tried to help him, how he had fled.
He grows quiet then, reflecting everything that had led him to this moment in time. Led him here with her beside him. The constant flicker of anger in the back of his throat, the rolling resentment of his father that was slowly eating him alive. To that he is unable to speak aloud. ”I’ve never told anyone that before.” He finally manages with shaky breath, still looking to the distance. To all the nightmares that play before him as real as day.
Ledger
@[Spear + Spark]