06-06-2020, 11:50 PM
“I know when you go
down all your darkest roads
I would have followed all the way
to the graveyard.”
down all your darkest roads
I would have followed all the way
to the graveyard.”
She is used to dark things, but even still, he feels different. He feels different because despite the shadows he has twined around her neck and the iciness of his skin, he does not feel sinister. She has been with what could be called evil — has loved it, still loves — and there is something about Illum that does not strike her like that. He is closed off and cold, he is distant and seemingly indifferent, but so far he does not seem cruel.
And for that reason, perhaps, she is most afraid.
She is afraid of what will happen if his darkness is not strong enough to shut her out. She is afraid of what will happen if he lets her light in, if they see each others hearts, raw and open and real.
She is afraid of a love that will remind her of Skellig; something that was so normal and honest, something that she had utterly destroyed until it was unrecognizable.
It’s why it was so much easier to be with someone that kept her at arm’s length. To understand that it was not real love, not in the normal sense.
And so she is almost grateful when the shadows begin to spill from him. She thinks this will be it, that this will be when he pushes her away — physically, emotionally, every way possible. He will suffocate her with shadows and she will remember that she cannot be anything to him; that not all darkness craves light.
But then he is reaching for her even as the shadows press so close, as her angelic light struggles to illuminate in the presence of such a heavy darkness. He pulls her close to his chest and she goes soft, turning to push her nose against his skin. Her head dips beneath his, the smoothness of her cheek resting against his chest, not minding the way the frost melts against her, turning her skin damp. “Illum,” she begins, wondering in the back of her mind if she is going to regret getting herself tangled in another romance, but feeling powerless to stop it. Because she can feel his heart in his chest, and she feel her own beating and the rush of butterflies in her stomach. “If you think I can leave here and just forget you, you’re mistaken.”
And for that reason, perhaps, she is most afraid.
She is afraid of what will happen if his darkness is not strong enough to shut her out. She is afraid of what will happen if he lets her light in, if they see each others hearts, raw and open and real.
She is afraid of a love that will remind her of Skellig; something that was so normal and honest, something that she had utterly destroyed until it was unrecognizable.
It’s why it was so much easier to be with someone that kept her at arm’s length. To understand that it was not real love, not in the normal sense.
And so she is almost grateful when the shadows begin to spill from him. She thinks this will be it, that this will be when he pushes her away — physically, emotionally, every way possible. He will suffocate her with shadows and she will remember that she cannot be anything to him; that not all darkness craves light.
But then he is reaching for her even as the shadows press so close, as her angelic light struggles to illuminate in the presence of such a heavy darkness. He pulls her close to his chest and she goes soft, turning to push her nose against his skin. Her head dips beneath his, the smoothness of her cheek resting against his chest, not minding the way the frost melts against her, turning her skin damp. “Illum,” she begins, wondering in the back of her mind if she is going to regret getting herself tangled in another romance, but feeling powerless to stop it. Because she can feel his heart in his chest, and she feel her own beating and the rush of butterflies in her stomach. “If you think I can leave here and just forget you, you’re mistaken.”
ryatah