11-09-2018, 10:55 AM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
He didn’t expect her answer to hurt as badly as it does. The words cut deeply into him, leaving raw gashes in their wake. A look of surprise nearly peeks out from behind his forelock, but the long silence is enough to betray him. Everyone wants to be saved, or so he thought. In passing, he has witnessed the blood dribbling from nostrils, the bones painstakingly poking through emaciated bodies, and the fever-riddled trembles. It frightens him. Never before, to his knowledge, has he seen such an epidemic. In truth, he wants to run now and to cower from the plague as it ravages across Beqanna, but his feet are rooted. While a sliver of cowardice lives inside them all, it’s his pride and sense of purpose that seemingly dictates his moves and decisions.
Here, with her, he will remain.
In his chest, Tiphon can almost hear the drumming of his heart as the world passes them by with hardly notice. A fleeting glance sees a lumbering stallion, but his eyes immediately return to her – whose name still remains unknown – and he steadies the thrumming pulse of his blood. In this moment, right now, it’s only her that matters. Even if he may be the only one to care, even if for only the extent of this conversation, Tiphon can at least brighten the world up a little with love, care, and adoration.
A failed judgment almost slips past his lips. Nearly, he tells her that she is wrong, that she cannot possibly believe that, but who is he to make such claims to a stranger? What strife, beyond this, has plagued her to a point that it has dismissed her will to stay healthy and to, possibly, survive? A sigh slips through him like the steady winter gale. A feeble grin tries desperately to waver the concerned expression of his face. It barely reaches his eyes before a rolling cloud shrouds him in shadows. His body remains alight as though having absorbed the sunlight from before this plague. ”Maybe you just don’t know yet that you want to escape, that you actually don’t want to stay here.” A shrug ripples through his shoulders, hope filling his thoughts as she looks at her.
”Please tell me,” he adds with a gentle tenderness, ”what is your name?”
Here, with her, he will remain.
In his chest, Tiphon can almost hear the drumming of his heart as the world passes them by with hardly notice. A fleeting glance sees a lumbering stallion, but his eyes immediately return to her – whose name still remains unknown – and he steadies the thrumming pulse of his blood. In this moment, right now, it’s only her that matters. Even if he may be the only one to care, even if for only the extent of this conversation, Tiphon can at least brighten the world up a little with love, care, and adoration.
A failed judgment almost slips past his lips. Nearly, he tells her that she is wrong, that she cannot possibly believe that, but who is he to make such claims to a stranger? What strife, beyond this, has plagued her to a point that it has dismissed her will to stay healthy and to, possibly, survive? A sigh slips through him like the steady winter gale. A feeble grin tries desperately to waver the concerned expression of his face. It barely reaches his eyes before a rolling cloud shrouds him in shadows. His body remains alight as though having absorbed the sunlight from before this plague. ”Maybe you just don’t know yet that you want to escape, that you actually don’t want to stay here.” A shrug ripples through his shoulders, hope filling his thoughts as she looks at her.
”Please tell me,” he adds with a gentle tenderness, ”what is your name?”
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION
@[Eilidh]