04-28-2017, 06:59 PM
i'm not going to change, so stay out of my way.
i don't need you to understand that i'm already saved.
His smile is a comfort to her - a solid port in a wayward storm, in the hurricane that has wracked her mind. She observes the gentle creases that lay at the edges of his whiskered mouth, the way each one twitches faintly in a slight uptick. A sign of warmth, of familiarity, and a beacon of light in her otherwise dark and dreary day.
There are not many she can lay claim to in terms of closeness - her daughters and son hold what jagged, frigid pieces of her heart that remain, and her love for them is unwavering, and Magnus had become her closest companion - yet she never let anyone in. She has never let anyone see what lay beneath the heavy scarring that her invisible armor has left behind, and it is an even heavier weight and burden to feel so undeniably alone.
Solitude had always been a part of her - she had drawn away from her sister, a twin in birth, and hardly knew her. If it were not for their physical similarities, she would hardly recognize her if she were to come across her. Her mother, she had not seen in many years - not since the last time she had gripped her teat between her ravenous, greedy lips, before growing impatient and bored with the act. Her father - stoic, knowing, yet kind - had been her light in a dark world, and he had gone away with everything she had known in the wake of the reckoning.
Yet as the tireless years pass her by, etching gentle and faint lines into her face and drawing strength from the rich marrow of her bones, she has grown tired - tired of time stealing from her, tired of the wrought iron cage she has built around herself - around her heart. The solitude has since become loneliness, and it has come to consume her, and as Warrick presses the edge of his muzzle against her own to embrace her in memory, she can feel the delicate thread of her demeanor begin to unravel.
The way her name touches his lips is somehow uncertain - an edge to each syllable, as if to show her reverence that in this moment, she does not feel she deserves.
"Don't," she murmurs to him, her breath warm against his cheek as she presses the flattened bridge of her nose against his neck, inhaling his scent and the salty brine that lay across his skin, as it does her own. "I am nothing; no one. My title is only that - a title."
After a long moment, she finally draws away from the warmth of his nape, manipulating her body to face the sea alongside him - the bristling feathers of her wings brushing against the edges of his rib cage; along his flank. Her troubled gaze searches the hazy sea, where the sky seemingly falls away into the ocean - an endless expanse of dull gray and seafoam green. I feel adrift, he says, and for the first time in a long time, a soft chuckle rises from her throat.
"I feel adrift, too, Warrick," she says with a weary sigh, hazel eyes watching the steady waves pounding against the shoreline. "I think we all do, at some point. It is all we can do to find something to tether ourselves to to keep ourselves from being lost at sea."
There are not many she can lay claim to in terms of closeness - her daughters and son hold what jagged, frigid pieces of her heart that remain, and her love for them is unwavering, and Magnus had become her closest companion - yet she never let anyone in. She has never let anyone see what lay beneath the heavy scarring that her invisible armor has left behind, and it is an even heavier weight and burden to feel so undeniably alone.
Solitude had always been a part of her - she had drawn away from her sister, a twin in birth, and hardly knew her. If it were not for their physical similarities, she would hardly recognize her if she were to come across her. Her mother, she had not seen in many years - not since the last time she had gripped her teat between her ravenous, greedy lips, before growing impatient and bored with the act. Her father - stoic, knowing, yet kind - had been her light in a dark world, and he had gone away with everything she had known in the wake of the reckoning.
Yet as the tireless years pass her by, etching gentle and faint lines into her face and drawing strength from the rich marrow of her bones, she has grown tired - tired of time stealing from her, tired of the wrought iron cage she has built around herself - around her heart. The solitude has since become loneliness, and it has come to consume her, and as Warrick presses the edge of his muzzle against her own to embrace her in memory, she can feel the delicate thread of her demeanor begin to unravel.
The way her name touches his lips is somehow uncertain - an edge to each syllable, as if to show her reverence that in this moment, she does not feel she deserves.
"Don't," she murmurs to him, her breath warm against his cheek as she presses the flattened bridge of her nose against his neck, inhaling his scent and the salty brine that lay across his skin, as it does her own. "I am nothing; no one. My title is only that - a title."
After a long moment, she finally draws away from the warmth of his nape, manipulating her body to face the sea alongside him - the bristling feathers of her wings brushing against the edges of his rib cage; along his flank. Her troubled gaze searches the hazy sea, where the sky seemingly falls away into the ocean - an endless expanse of dull gray and seafoam green. I feel adrift, he says, and for the first time in a long time, a soft chuckle rises from her throat.
"I feel adrift, too, Warrick," she says with a weary sigh, hazel eyes watching the steady waves pounding against the shoreline. "I think we all do, at some point. It is all we can do to find something to tether ourselves to to keep ourselves from being lost at sea."
Ellyse