02-25-2021, 04:01 PM
( THESE DAYS I DON’T PRAY WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES
I JUST BITE MY TONGUE A BIT HARDER )
I JUST BITE MY TONGUE A BIT HARDER )
Each time he comes back he thinks it will be the last time.
He thinks he will be found out.
He thinks there will be someone waiting for him at the border.
They will turn him around, send him away.
Will his mother be there waiting? Will she weep as she watches him go?
Will Este?
He sticks close to the border each time he comes back so, if they do have to watch, they will not have to watch him long. But there is some comfort in knowing that they share the same space, the same air. They are here somewhere, his mother and his sister, and they are probably together. Because Este is shrouded so horribly in the stench of death and his mother so rarely leaves her side because of it and he wishes he could stay, too. But it stings his nose. It makes his eyes water. He wishes he were strong enough to fight it, but he is not.
This is as close and as far as he can get.
The darkness at the edge of the forest where it meets Hyaline. Perhaps they will never find him here. Perhaps he can leave here indefinitely, skirting between the shadows. But he is such a brilliant white, laced with the most brilliant blue. There is no hope of remaining undetected.
He is deep in thought when he hears something and he thinks, finally, they have come for him. He searches through the dark for the figure that has come to take him away. But it is a child he finds in the dark instead. His heart leaps up into his throat and he hurries toward her.
She does not smell like death.
But there is still so much danger here.
“You can’t be here,” he tells her urgently, though there is no way for him to know just by looking at her that she is not a shifter. “Please,” such a mournful plea, “please, you have to go.” Or what? Will they kill her? How terribly it bothers him that he does not know if he has only been spared because of who his mother is.
He thinks he will be found out.
He thinks there will be someone waiting for him at the border.
They will turn him around, send him away.
Will his mother be there waiting? Will she weep as she watches him go?
Will Este?
He sticks close to the border each time he comes back so, if they do have to watch, they will not have to watch him long. But there is some comfort in knowing that they share the same space, the same air. They are here somewhere, his mother and his sister, and they are probably together. Because Este is shrouded so horribly in the stench of death and his mother so rarely leaves her side because of it and he wishes he could stay, too. But it stings his nose. It makes his eyes water. He wishes he were strong enough to fight it, but he is not.
This is as close and as far as he can get.
The darkness at the edge of the forest where it meets Hyaline. Perhaps they will never find him here. Perhaps he can leave here indefinitely, skirting between the shadows. But he is such a brilliant white, laced with the most brilliant blue. There is no hope of remaining undetected.
He is deep in thought when he hears something and he thinks, finally, they have come for him. He searches through the dark for the figure that has come to take him away. But it is a child he finds in the dark instead. His heart leaps up into his throat and he hurries toward her.
She does not smell like death.
But there is still so much danger here.
“You can’t be here,” he tells her urgently, though there is no way for him to know just by looking at her that she is not a shifter. “Please,” such a mournful plea, “please, you have to go.” Or what? Will they kill her? How terribly it bothers him that he does not know if he has only been spared because of who his mother is.
Selaphiel
@[Kamaria]