She watches him, always from a distance. Sometimes she can control her image and disappear from his sight completely, but for the most part she is simply a shadow lurking in the background. Watching, waiting, looking on as he makes decisions, lives his life, makes friends, and loses them. She could not leave; he could not rid himself of her. They are caught together in a web of putrid bile rotting away as each day passed, still even when her bones are nothing but sand, she stays. Why? Her mind haunts itself, it haunts him, she had stopped nagging at him long ago. She simply stood there watching, waiting for the day that her memory would waste away, the day that nothing would be left and she would simply vanish. Yet that day never comes, no she is stuck watching him, learning everything about him, there are days that she wonders. Are you just lonely? But the thought is quick to disperse itself. Then another moment another look in his eye and her curiosity is peeked once more, Maybe you are simply afraid. This seems the most logical to her, but then again the flame of sympathy is snuffed out before it even exists. One hard look from his eyes and she remembers. Her mangled face is proof enough of this.
Still she walks by his side, she watches as he grows older, maybe when he dies she will be free? More thoughts, more looks, no life, no love, no one to hear her voice. No as she died, so did her family, the world was forgetting the love for the land, the love for the past, the need to hold on to their roots, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Her memory wafted smaller and smaller until even her son had forgotten. My son She says it one day lost in thoughts that were neither important, nor fully existent. But still the words come out, and she drifts into slumber. The slumber is sleepless, no dreamings, no darkness, no emotions, there is nothing, nothing at all, not blackness not light, no sounds, no silence. And just as before her last thought is, so this is death. Then she blinks, life is back, fog folds and blankets around her. She can feel it, she can smell it, she looks around slightly puzzled, but shrugs it off as a weird dream. He is there, and she sighs nudging at his cheek, attempting to wake him. When he groans out his complaints she rolls her eyes, proceeding down the craggy mountain trail. Come on lazy bones, she can hear steps, she can feel the rocks, she frowns in wonder at these things. What a bizarre dream, she grumbles to herself, thinking that it was really his steps she was hearing, and that her mind was playing tricks on her.
He cries and screams and she shoots him a glare, grow up will you? She sighs her exasperation, this had been the most she had said to him since that day she had been tied to him. They walk, and move towards the meadow. She does not look back, not after leaving the fog, her half face, the blood mangled thing that hung from her neck was healed. Yet she knew not of this, not yet anyways. She still believes it to be the festering rot that she had come to know so well. But the fog goes and she finds that she is heavy, not with fat, or child, just anchored to the ground, a lightness, a connection is gone. It takes work to move, it takes breathes to live, it’s a phenomenon that she cannot comprehend. Then another comes up to them, a mare, one that appears to be clingy.
She listens as they call each other’s names, she waits while they fear for their lives. Her eyes catch his wings, they see the lack of horns, the normality of hooves, she puzzles on it for a moment. Then he shows concern, and Hestia can’t control her mouth this time. What has been taken from you? the words grate her, Her irritated mood, and unpleasant experience has her itching to rankle him. What’s this? Your newest slut? Or is she your next victim? Her words ooze with bitterness, they reach to climb under his skin and scratch away at the creature he is. She smirks at him, I wish I had lost something, She pointedly narrows her eyes on him, You.
@[Pollock]
@[sinew]
Still she walks by his side, she watches as he grows older, maybe when he dies she will be free? More thoughts, more looks, no life, no love, no one to hear her voice. No as she died, so did her family, the world was forgetting the love for the land, the love for the past, the need to hold on to their roots, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Her memory wafted smaller and smaller until even her son had forgotten. My son She says it one day lost in thoughts that were neither important, nor fully existent. But still the words come out, and she drifts into slumber. The slumber is sleepless, no dreamings, no darkness, no emotions, there is nothing, nothing at all, not blackness not light, no sounds, no silence. And just as before her last thought is, so this is death. Then she blinks, life is back, fog folds and blankets around her. She can feel it, she can smell it, she looks around slightly puzzled, but shrugs it off as a weird dream. He is there, and she sighs nudging at his cheek, attempting to wake him. When he groans out his complaints she rolls her eyes, proceeding down the craggy mountain trail. Come on lazy bones, she can hear steps, she can feel the rocks, she frowns in wonder at these things. What a bizarre dream, she grumbles to herself, thinking that it was really his steps she was hearing, and that her mind was playing tricks on her.
He cries and screams and she shoots him a glare, grow up will you? She sighs her exasperation, this had been the most she had said to him since that day she had been tied to him. They walk, and move towards the meadow. She does not look back, not after leaving the fog, her half face, the blood mangled thing that hung from her neck was healed. Yet she knew not of this, not yet anyways. She still believes it to be the festering rot that she had come to know so well. But the fog goes and she finds that she is heavy, not with fat, or child, just anchored to the ground, a lightness, a connection is gone. It takes work to move, it takes breathes to live, it’s a phenomenon that she cannot comprehend. Then another comes up to them, a mare, one that appears to be clingy.
She listens as they call each other’s names, she waits while they fear for their lives. Her eyes catch his wings, they see the lack of horns, the normality of hooves, she puzzles on it for a moment. Then he shows concern, and Hestia can’t control her mouth this time. What has been taken from you? the words grate her, Her irritated mood, and unpleasant experience has her itching to rankle him. What’s this? Your newest slut? Or is she your next victim? Her words ooze with bitterness, they reach to climb under his skin and scratch away at the creature he is. She smirks at him, I wish I had lost something, She pointedly narrows her eyes on him, You.
@[Pollock]
@[sinew]
![[Image: 345k45w.jpg]](http://i65.tinypic.com/345k45w.jpg)