01-31-2021, 06:02 PM
Ryatah
— there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree?
She hadn’t dared to ask for her eyes back, even though last time he had all but made her. No matter how many times they danced this same dance, the taste of asking for a favor from him never sat well on her tongue. Not even something seemingly so simple as eyes—not even something he surely expected her to ask for. Instead, she stood in uncertain silence as his lips traced a path along her neck and her cheek, drifting just over the dark stones that rested where her eyes had once been.
Her heartbeat quickens in anticipation, and then nearly stops.
She inhales sharply when the stones are suddenly dislodged, a violent white flash of pain lighting through her as the new eyes emerge. There is no sound from her lips, though, nothing except her unsteady breathing as she wills the pain to subside. Her vision adjusts from the utter black of blindness to the only just nearly black of the lair, and somewhere in the thin shadows, there is his familiar face. Her own glow suddenly feels too bright, too harsh, and the golden light of her halo makes her want to retreat back into the dark. “Thank you,” she manages, the hush of her voice sounding strange and hollow against the stone walls.
A little cautiously she falls into step just beside him, remembering how when she was last here she had never really seen it stripped down like this. The beach had been first, and then the valley—separate memories that stir entirely separate feelings, but it always diverges into the same unnamable thing. She follows and watches, and she finds herself wondering who else he brings here—she remembers her conversation with Svedka, how he had said that Carnage had killed him and brought him back. The emotion that threatens to bloom is something adjacent to envy, but her voice is even when she asks him, “How do you decide who to bring here?”
Her heartbeat quickens in anticipation, and then nearly stops.
She inhales sharply when the stones are suddenly dislodged, a violent white flash of pain lighting through her as the new eyes emerge. There is no sound from her lips, though, nothing except her unsteady breathing as she wills the pain to subside. Her vision adjusts from the utter black of blindness to the only just nearly black of the lair, and somewhere in the thin shadows, there is his familiar face. Her own glow suddenly feels too bright, too harsh, and the golden light of her halo makes her want to retreat back into the dark. “Thank you,” she manages, the hush of her voice sounding strange and hollow against the stone walls.
A little cautiously she falls into step just beside him, remembering how when she was last here she had never really seen it stripped down like this. The beach had been first, and then the valley—separate memories that stir entirely separate feelings, but it always diverges into the same unnamable thing. She follows and watches, and she finds herself wondering who else he brings here—she remembers her conversation with Svedka, how he had said that Carnage had killed him and brought him back. The emotion that threatens to bloom is something adjacent to envy, but her voice is even when she asks him, “How do you decide who to bring here?”
there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin —
@[Carnage]