04-24-2020, 12:17 AM
ryatah
I know when you go down all your darkest roads
I would have followed all the way to the graveyard
I would have followed all the way to the graveyard
“I came here with Dhumin,” she explains, though she is not sure if Chasity would remember the stallion that eventually went on to rule the valley. “We were together before we came to Beqanna. The valley was his choice, and I just never left it.” She speaks of him lightly, refusing to let her tongue linger over the syllables, afraid that she will be able to taste the memories that lurk just below the surface of her subconscious.
She has let her heart tangle with more than most would; she is not careful, and she lets it be toyed with and broken, likes the feel of barbed wire and thorns digging into the tender flesh of it. But no one’s barbs were quite as deep as Dhumin’s. He would always be the first, no matter who came after. And now, he would always be the reason that she had been turned into an angel. She had gone to the afterlife, for him. And she had returned beautiful and changed, but alone.
Was she surprised? Not really. She would have followed him anywhere, but of course he would not do the same for her. She doesn’t think much has changed in that regard. There were different men to break her heart now, but the story was still the same.
Her dark eyes turn back to her companion with a sympathetic smile when she says she cannot remember much. That is a feeling Ryatah knows well. Anytime she was dead for too long – not the brief punishments dealt by Carnage, but real, timeless death – there was always that unyielding fog that took weeks to shake free of. She isn’t sure if Chasity had died; but it sounds like she did. “It gets easier. Things will start to clear up, and you will find a new normal.”
She pauses though when she sees the strange look that crosses her face. Her steps stall, and she reaches to touch her porcelain nose to her neck and ask her gently, “Are you alright?”
She has let her heart tangle with more than most would; she is not careful, and she lets it be toyed with and broken, likes the feel of barbed wire and thorns digging into the tender flesh of it. But no one’s barbs were quite as deep as Dhumin’s. He would always be the first, no matter who came after. And now, he would always be the reason that she had been turned into an angel. She had gone to the afterlife, for him. And she had returned beautiful and changed, but alone.
Was she surprised? Not really. She would have followed him anywhere, but of course he would not do the same for her. She doesn’t think much has changed in that regard. There were different men to break her heart now, but the story was still the same.
Her dark eyes turn back to her companion with a sympathetic smile when she says she cannot remember much. That is a feeling Ryatah knows well. Anytime she was dead for too long – not the brief punishments dealt by Carnage, but real, timeless death – there was always that unyielding fog that took weeks to shake free of. She isn’t sure if Chasity had died; but it sounds like she did. “It gets easier. Things will start to clear up, and you will find a new normal.”
She pauses though when she sees the strange look that crosses her face. Her steps stall, and she reaches to touch her porcelain nose to her neck and ask her gently, “Are you alright?”