07-03-2020, 11:29 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 doesn’t feel like she had been gone long, but time had long since lost its relevance. She has been alive and dead and alive again too many times, an endless sick carousel, and it made it hard, sometimes, to accurately judge the passing of time.
It was long enough, she realized, that her sides had already grown swollen with what she knows is Illum’s child by the time she returns. She was not a creature prone to regret, though, and he was no exception. Her regrets extended only to herself, at the way she could not help but to break off another piece of herself, how he made it so easy to pretend there was something right with her when she knows everything is wrong.
She isn’t sure why she had chosen this particular flirtation to fixate on—Illum was not the first, and likely not the last. There wasn’t a discernible reason for it to keep her away from Hyaline, and away from Atrox.
Perhaps it was the way Illum called her angel, and she almost believed it.
She didn’t stay with him, though. There was something about here that constantly pulled her back, some sort of strange magnetic pull that drew her back to Atrox. It was different from whatever inexplicable force tethered her to Carnage; he was like an addiction, one that she didn’t plan to quit. But Atrox almost felt like home, or as much as she would ever allow anyone to ever be.
They were different, but both so tightly interwoven right into her veins and her bones that only they could sever it.
When she sees Atrox stalking towards her in his panther form she instantly recognizes the tension that simmers beneath his infinitely black pelt, and she stops, uneasy. When he shifts back into himself steps from her she fights the urge to recoil back from the sharpness of his eyes and the calloused edge to his smile, because while it wasn’t uncommon for him to be irritated for one reason or another, this felt like something else entirely.
“I guess so,” she answers him, afraid that no matter how she answered it would be the wrong way. With her head angled down, she is reluctant to meet his gaze, and she remains quiet as she tries to not wilt beneath his scrutinizing stare. He has never laid out any kind of boundaries – has never told her what was right, what was wrong, and he didn’t seem to mind when Echis was not his.
It would not be the first time the rules were changed on her, though.
The wind toys with the gilded feathers of her wings, lifts the light colored forelock that stirs beneath the soft amber glow of her halo, and finally she dares to say softly, tentatively, “You seem mad. Did I do something wrong?”
It was long enough, she realized, that her sides had already grown swollen with what she knows is Illum’s child by the time she returns. She was not a creature prone to regret, though, and he was no exception. Her regrets extended only to herself, at the way she could not help but to break off another piece of herself, how he made it so easy to pretend there was something right with her when she knows everything is wrong.
She isn’t sure why she had chosen this particular flirtation to fixate on—Illum was not the first, and likely not the last. There wasn’t a discernible reason for it to keep her away from Hyaline, and away from Atrox.
Perhaps it was the way Illum called her angel, and she almost believed it.
She didn’t stay with him, though. There was something about here that constantly pulled her back, some sort of strange magnetic pull that drew her back to Atrox. It was different from whatever inexplicable force tethered her to Carnage; he was like an addiction, one that she didn’t plan to quit. But Atrox almost felt like home, or as much as she would ever allow anyone to ever be.
They were different, but both so tightly interwoven right into her veins and her bones that only they could sever it.
When she sees Atrox stalking towards her in his panther form she instantly recognizes the tension that simmers beneath his infinitely black pelt, and she stops, uneasy. When he shifts back into himself steps from her she fights the urge to recoil back from the sharpness of his eyes and the calloused edge to his smile, because while it wasn’t uncommon for him to be irritated for one reason or another, this felt like something else entirely.
“I guess so,” she answers him, afraid that no matter how she answered it would be the wrong way. With her head angled down, she is reluctant to meet his gaze, and she remains quiet as she tries to not wilt beneath his scrutinizing stare. He has never laid out any kind of boundaries – has never told her what was right, what was wrong, and he didn’t seem to mind when Echis was not his.
It would not be the first time the rules were changed on her, though.
The wind toys with the gilded feathers of her wings, lifts the light colored forelock that stirs beneath the soft amber glow of her halo, and finally she dares to say softly, tentatively, “You seem mad. Did I do something wrong?”
ryatah