10-29-2020, 12:11 AM
YADIGAR
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
Even if the heart is frozen in some terrible scream, he remembers how it felt when it called his ribs home. This time last year, she left butterflies in his stomach and their ghosts still haunt him now. He can hear the pause in her voice when she answers and he wishes he was still the same Yadigar who walked all that way to Taiga with the witch from the west. But hadn’t Straia warned him that ducking all that pain would cost him something equally precious? He can’t even find the bitter remorse for it, now.
She says she’s sorry and he’s surprised at the chuckle that escapes his lips. Even his father’s enemies mourned the loss of him. But he can only shrug his great shoulders as he tries to scrounge up some words. “There will never be anyone quite like him, for better or for worse,” he muses as his milk-white gaze drifts anywhere but her face.
Then Breach reminds him that she is no damsel. He supposes trying to guard someone who has proven to be immortal would be rather silly. Still, the idea of her dying yet again doesn’t sit right in his mind. The exquisite agony of surviving seems preferable to that of departing.
“You don’t need much of anything, do you?” he asks with a smirk as he looks down at her. Her question makes him discard the expression, however. Yadigar considers how to answer as the seconds stretch by them. He thinks of how badly he wanted her to make him a bird so he could leave this awful world. He thinks of how he stayed there beside her even when she said she couldn’t.
“All of me but my body. The opposite of you, I suppose,” he finally says once the silence grows uncomfortably thick. “Or maybe I should say it’s all slumbering somewhere in me. But I remember how I felt before.”
And then he stops himself because the rest of it is all useless talk.
She says she’s sorry and he’s surprised at the chuckle that escapes his lips. Even his father’s enemies mourned the loss of him. But he can only shrug his great shoulders as he tries to scrounge up some words. “There will never be anyone quite like him, for better or for worse,” he muses as his milk-white gaze drifts anywhere but her face.
Then Breach reminds him that she is no damsel. He supposes trying to guard someone who has proven to be immortal would be rather silly. Still, the idea of her dying yet again doesn’t sit right in his mind. The exquisite agony of surviving seems preferable to that of departing.
“You don’t need much of anything, do you?” he asks with a smirk as he looks down at her. Her question makes him discard the expression, however. Yadigar considers how to answer as the seconds stretch by them. He thinks of how badly he wanted her to make him a bird so he could leave this awful world. He thinks of how he stayed there beside her even when she said she couldn’t.
“All of me but my body. The opposite of you, I suppose,” he finally says once the silence grows uncomfortably thick. “Or maybe I should say it’s all slumbering somewhere in me. But I remember how I felt before.”
And then he stops himself because the rest of it is all useless talk.