05-29-2017, 07:42 PM
you're waiting for someone to put you together, you're waiting for someone to push you away
She was tired.
Tired of walking. Of running. Of hiding. Of being broken.
The longer she stayed away, the more sick she became. Her magic, her broken heart, her mind—all gone, and entirely out of control. Her body convulsed, tremored. Hidden away, her pride—dilapidated. Such the dumpy little farm girl, turned raving disco lunatic.
Her form this day, was a tall slender deer, whose colors swirled wildly while her skin thrummed with the sound of a constant vibration—like a generator kicking off, as it were. But the deer… she grew antlers, then which shrank and disappeared without a trace. It didn’t hurt anymore—because from the glitch magic and the insane babble inside her own head, Reagan found that she was always hurting… so one pain was veritably indistinguishable from the next.
But the more she tried, the harder she felt that tug…the one of Jinju looking for her mother. The one relationship that she had always looked for—and the one that was stripped from her the day that Ruan told her not to come back home. Whether or not Reagan should have chosen to fight her way for the sake of her children was neither here nor there. When it came to Ruan, there was no fight.
And after their last conversation in the forest, Reagan had found that there wasn’t much left of anything else, either.
Along the deer’s left side were the laceration marking from the ice-wolf’s fire that had never healed; wounds that dripped blood that fell to the earth in a hiss, creating a keleidescope of color wherever she went. She was immortal, and so could not die, but neither was she healing from an otherwise mortal wound.
In a word, Reagan was an absolute mess at the current moment.
And so, when the scent of Jinju is followed by that familiar tug of warmth—of love—Reagan finds that her body is too tired to hide any longer.
From behind a massive oak tree, the deer spies two inky figures standing in the shadows, their red eyes looking at each other as if they’d seen ghosts. The shorter, one, rounder. Reagan recognizes her daughter, in a heartbeat. Her heart is warmed, and she starts cry silent tears. The other figure, a large imposing thing as if cut from a solid piece of pocked obsidian, stands looking at a reflection of himself. The deer’s magic is too far consumed, too far gone to be able to read minds. But she would have been a fool not to know Offspring by the look of him.
The deer grows massive antlers, and appears to the other two as a stag of the forest. Taking a breath, it comes out of hiding, swirling colors too many to mention. It figures, why not cut the awkward tension with yet another awkward entry.
Queue the disco music.
“Hello, Jinju.”
Tired of walking. Of running. Of hiding. Of being broken.
The longer she stayed away, the more sick she became. Her magic, her broken heart, her mind—all gone, and entirely out of control. Her body convulsed, tremored. Hidden away, her pride—dilapidated. Such the dumpy little farm girl, turned raving disco lunatic.
Her form this day, was a tall slender deer, whose colors swirled wildly while her skin thrummed with the sound of a constant vibration—like a generator kicking off, as it were. But the deer… she grew antlers, then which shrank and disappeared without a trace. It didn’t hurt anymore—because from the glitch magic and the insane babble inside her own head, Reagan found that she was always hurting… so one pain was veritably indistinguishable from the next.
But the more she tried, the harder she felt that tug…the one of Jinju looking for her mother. The one relationship that she had always looked for—and the one that was stripped from her the day that Ruan told her not to come back home. Whether or not Reagan should have chosen to fight her way for the sake of her children was neither here nor there. When it came to Ruan, there was no fight.
And after their last conversation in the forest, Reagan had found that there wasn’t much left of anything else, either.
Along the deer’s left side were the laceration marking from the ice-wolf’s fire that had never healed; wounds that dripped blood that fell to the earth in a hiss, creating a keleidescope of color wherever she went. She was immortal, and so could not die, but neither was she healing from an otherwise mortal wound.
In a word, Reagan was an absolute mess at the current moment.
And so, when the scent of Jinju is followed by that familiar tug of warmth—of love—Reagan finds that her body is too tired to hide any longer.
From behind a massive oak tree, the deer spies two inky figures standing in the shadows, their red eyes looking at each other as if they’d seen ghosts. The shorter, one, rounder. Reagan recognizes her daughter, in a heartbeat. Her heart is warmed, and she starts cry silent tears. The other figure, a large imposing thing as if cut from a solid piece of pocked obsidian, stands looking at a reflection of himself. The deer’s magic is too far consumed, too far gone to be able to read minds. But she would have been a fool not to know Offspring by the look of him.
The deer grows massive antlers, and appears to the other two as a stag of the forest. Taking a breath, it comes out of hiding, swirling colors too many to mention. It figures, why not cut the awkward tension with yet another awkward entry.
Queue the disco music.
“Hello, Jinju.”
reagan
