01-05-2021, 12:57 AM
choke them on the ashes of the dreams they burned
He looks for her everywhere.
He looks for her from every shadow that he lingers in, from one corner of this land to the other. He glances across their faces, he searches the outskirts for a single glimpse of iridescent blue, but to no avail. She is just as good at disappearing as he is, and he wonders if this is the universe’s way of punishing him – again.
As if being turned into a shadow that feeds off fear and sorrow was not enough.
As if he did not already punish himself over and over for all of his wrong-doings, as if he did not already live a life of solitude in an effort to protect anyone he might care about.
The universe must be protecting her, then. And he would accept it if he wasn't so selfish. He knows that he is not good for her – not good for anyone, but least of all her. Terror and misfortune seemed to follow him wherever he went, and the last thing he would ever want is to bring harm to her, but hadn't he already done that? He had looked her in the eye and told her he had been with someone else; he had watched the way his words had bruised her, and watched, too, how effectively she walled him off.
He would have left her alone if the world had not gone dark.
It had been thrilling at first. Where once he had stuck to the shadowed parts – the forests, mostly – Beqanna was suddenly wide open to him. But the longer the dark stayed, the more foreboding it felt. He was familiar with darkness and danger – he was the monster in the shadows, the red-eyed creature of nightmares. This feeling that he could not shake, though, told him that this was more. Something more than him, something bigger.
He looks for her with greater urgency after that, and though he has imagined a thousand times what it would be like to finally see her face, she still catches him off guard.
He stutters to a stop, his bright red eyes piercing through the darkness to find her face. “Despoina,” his voice nearly cracks with disuse, and he worries what he must look like to her now. They have often met in darkness, but not like this. The shape of him is nearly indiscernible in this endless night, save for the eyes that glow like lit rubies. “I was looking for you,” he tells her truthfully, resisting the urge to step closer to her.
He looks for her from every shadow that he lingers in, from one corner of this land to the other. He glances across their faces, he searches the outskirts for a single glimpse of iridescent blue, but to no avail. She is just as good at disappearing as he is, and he wonders if this is the universe’s way of punishing him – again.
As if being turned into a shadow that feeds off fear and sorrow was not enough.
As if he did not already punish himself over and over for all of his wrong-doings, as if he did not already live a life of solitude in an effort to protect anyone he might care about.
The universe must be protecting her, then. And he would accept it if he wasn't so selfish. He knows that he is not good for her – not good for anyone, but least of all her. Terror and misfortune seemed to follow him wherever he went, and the last thing he would ever want is to bring harm to her, but hadn't he already done that? He had looked her in the eye and told her he had been with someone else; he had watched the way his words had bruised her, and watched, too, how effectively she walled him off.
He would have left her alone if the world had not gone dark.
It had been thrilling at first. Where once he had stuck to the shadowed parts – the forests, mostly – Beqanna was suddenly wide open to him. But the longer the dark stayed, the more foreboding it felt. He was familiar with darkness and danger – he was the monster in the shadows, the red-eyed creature of nightmares. This feeling that he could not shake, though, told him that this was more. Something more than him, something bigger.
He looks for her with greater urgency after that, and though he has imagined a thousand times what it would be like to finally see her face, she still catches him off guard.
He stutters to a stop, his bright red eyes piercing through the darkness to find her face. “Despoina,” his voice nearly cracks with disuse, and he worries what he must look like to her now. They have often met in darkness, but not like this. The shape of him is nearly indiscernible in this endless night, save for the eyes that glow like lit rubies. “I was looking for you,” he tells her truthfully, resisting the urge to step closer to her.
torryn
