06-07-2021, 06:18 PM
She is still shouting to be heard when she says, “Pick better next time.” She forgets all pretence of pretending that boy in the story wasn’t him, and there is no hint of ire or judgement in her raised voice, no shade of pityin her eyes because she understands what it is to have your parents carve out your future with the choices they make. Maybe her mother hadn’t chosen to go, but right now riding off the anger of his own story, it is a relief to hate her mom for leaving. To blame her mother instead of mourn her, to let fury carve Revelrie into a blade instead of allowing sorrow to reduce her to jagged shards. “Try me this time. She doesn’t really know why she says it, and maybe later she will blame it on the adrenaline of the storm booming around them, but in this moment she means it. She would like the chance to know him, to be his friend.
But there is no time for being soft, no time for anything but the thrashing rain that lashes her face and the wind that leaves her mane in wild faerie knots. “I might regret it.” She agrees, and some wild kind of laughter bubbles up helplessly from her chest when he steps up to join her. She does not think about it when she reaches out to touch his neck, tracing her lips over the shine of those golden flecks scattered like bits of shattered sun against the dark of space. It’s gratitude, maybe, that he can see her unravel like this, come completely undone, and yet he does not turn away from it in disgust. She has absolutely no idea why he doesn’t leave either, and if the situation were reversed she can’t be sure she wouldn’t be yelling at him to stop acting like an idiot. But he is better than her, maybe, and he is here. She touches her lips to the corner of his mouth so fleetingly her touch might be nothing more than the wind that traces the dark and damp of their bodies.
“Then we sink or we swim.” She says, and her face is turned not to the sea but to him, their eyes a clash of dark red and blue so bright they might be jewels. “But I don’t think I’m simple, and I’m sure you’re not either.” How could he even think that while they stood together at the edge of a cliff with water roiling below. “I might be insane.” She amends, and for the first time there is a hint of wariness as she breaks from his gaze to look down again. There is no desire inside her to die, and this is not about giving up or giving in, but about letting herself be carved into something entirely new. She is so tired of the relentless pain inside her chest, and the nectar of the flower had only led her further into ruin - she had found none of whatever it was that kept calling him back.
She shifts carefully closer to him, close enough that the curves of her hips and shoulders press into him to lend her delicate body some steadiness in this rushing wind. She starts to lift her mouth to his ear again, but then something inside her chest comes undone and she realizes this is a truth she needs to shout into the wind, a pain she needs to set free inside this storm. “I lost my mom when the dark-beasts came. They took her into the night and when the sun rose again, she was gone. She IS gone.” She is glad for the rain, because it washes away the angry tears that race down her cheeks, illuminating only for a heartbeat where they intersect with the glowing line that disappears under her jaw. “I need to feel more than this brokenness inside my chest or it’s going to kill me faster than this jump ever could.” She realizes too late she shouldn’t have told him that last part, shouldn’t have bared herself to him so readily, and when her gaze leaps back to his face it is with eyes now a shade of blue like bright wariness. “Don’t ever use my pain against me, Obscene, and I’ll never turn any of your truths against you.” It is some kind of threat and some kind of promise, and she finds herself searching his face for any hint of how she’s just damned herself.
Maybe it’s whatever she finds there that sets her free, or maybe it is cowardice that makes her need to run from him this moment before something new detonates inside her chest. But she steps close enough to leave the briefest kiss at the corner of his dark, scowling mouth, just one second of reckless bravery, and then she turns and leaps out over the edge and into the waiting ocean below.
But there is no time for being soft, no time for anything but the thrashing rain that lashes her face and the wind that leaves her mane in wild faerie knots. “I might regret it.” She agrees, and some wild kind of laughter bubbles up helplessly from her chest when he steps up to join her. She does not think about it when she reaches out to touch his neck, tracing her lips over the shine of those golden flecks scattered like bits of shattered sun against the dark of space. It’s gratitude, maybe, that he can see her unravel like this, come completely undone, and yet he does not turn away from it in disgust. She has absolutely no idea why he doesn’t leave either, and if the situation were reversed she can’t be sure she wouldn’t be yelling at him to stop acting like an idiot. But he is better than her, maybe, and he is here. She touches her lips to the corner of his mouth so fleetingly her touch might be nothing more than the wind that traces the dark and damp of their bodies.
“Then we sink or we swim.” She says, and her face is turned not to the sea but to him, their eyes a clash of dark red and blue so bright they might be jewels. “But I don’t think I’m simple, and I’m sure you’re not either.” How could he even think that while they stood together at the edge of a cliff with water roiling below. “I might be insane.” She amends, and for the first time there is a hint of wariness as she breaks from his gaze to look down again. There is no desire inside her to die, and this is not about giving up or giving in, but about letting herself be carved into something entirely new. She is so tired of the relentless pain inside her chest, and the nectar of the flower had only led her further into ruin - she had found none of whatever it was that kept calling him back.
She shifts carefully closer to him, close enough that the curves of her hips and shoulders press into him to lend her delicate body some steadiness in this rushing wind. She starts to lift her mouth to his ear again, but then something inside her chest comes undone and she realizes this is a truth she needs to shout into the wind, a pain she needs to set free inside this storm. “I lost my mom when the dark-beasts came. They took her into the night and when the sun rose again, she was gone. She IS gone.” She is glad for the rain, because it washes away the angry tears that race down her cheeks, illuminating only for a heartbeat where they intersect with the glowing line that disappears under her jaw. “I need to feel more than this brokenness inside my chest or it’s going to kill me faster than this jump ever could.” She realizes too late she shouldn’t have told him that last part, shouldn’t have bared herself to him so readily, and when her gaze leaps back to his face it is with eyes now a shade of blue like bright wariness. “Don’t ever use my pain against me, Obscene, and I’ll never turn any of your truths against you.” It is some kind of threat and some kind of promise, and she finds herself searching his face for any hint of how she’s just damned herself.
Maybe it’s whatever she finds there that sets her free, or maybe it is cowardice that makes her need to run from him this moment before something new detonates inside her chest. But she steps close enough to leave the briefest kiss at the corner of his dark, scowling mouth, just one second of reckless bravery, and then she turns and leaps out over the edge and into the waiting ocean below.
REVELRIE
it feels like falling, it feels like rain,
like losing my balance again and again
@[Obscene]