07-15-2017, 10:15 AM
Ellyse
I know some things that you don't; I've done things that you won't
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
Defiant, independent, and fiercely guarded, she had spent much of her youth isolated and set apart from the rest. Her children (wild and unbound, with deeply adventurous spirits and wide, curious eyes) were only a small fragment of her heart, roaming freely outside of her own body, but never had she leaned upon another for comfort, nor had she ever trusted another entirely –
Never had she given herself to another; not completely.
(Not even to Magnus.)
And yet, with her lips pressed against the warmth of his skin, and while feeling his blood pulsing through his veins and his heart beating in time with her own, she can see the promise of something more – she can feel it in the very marrow of her bones. He is frail – too thin, with jutting bone and lean muscle, but there is strength in his every word, and he is unabashedly honest, open and vulnerable to her. He, too, is broken, not unlike her, but beneath his iron chest plate lay a heart that is still beating, still thriving, just like her own.
She can feel his sinewy muscle stiffen beneath her touch, and quietly, tersely, he is muttering to her - do not punish me for my father’s mistakes - and she is searching his gaze with her own, brushing her mouth over his jawline, and across his cheek, tendering placing a kiss wherever her lips linger for too long. Longing to soothe the ache that must lie within for such painfully wrought words to find their way to the surface.
”No, don’t apologize,” she murmurs softly against the corner of his mouth, ”I promise that I’m not – that I won’t; you are not him.” And she is quiet, then – contemplating. ”And that was not fair of me to say.”
Magnus had been but a glimmering star amid a plethora of constellations littering the vast abyss of her celestial existence; a burning, glowing star nearing its own extinction – dimming with each passing day. He had opened her eyes, her mind, and her heart when she had been so dark, bitter, and defensive, but their relationship had been the very definition of dysfunction. He had a broken heart, a tormented mind, and a lifetime or two of memories both pleasurable and painful to weigh him down, and she was but a girl, foolish and longing to mend what she could; burned and scarred in the process.
As time goes on, she cannot keep herself from feeling an ebbing of doubt at the frayed edges of her memories. Had she ever known love at all?
The guilt of their union (however small that guilt had been) had long since faded – Magnus had left, without so much as a word to her – without ever meeting their youngest; a daughter. She owed him nothing, and as time carried on, as Ledger pressed his own lips to her own, tender with a flicker of heat, her mind is anywhere but on him - when she is quiet, and reserved, it is only because she is wary for her heart, and not of Ledger, not of the situation. Magnus is little more than a memory, and what lay before her is hardened bone and flesh - his touch warm, his heart open, and his soul restless for her own.
She would be a fool not to see.
His confession is heavy, but her kisses are feather-light, tracing every sharp line and ridge of his face, brushing away his tangled, ivory tresses away from the hollow point in which an eye once lay. But then he draws her closer, to look her in the eye, to chase away the shadow of fear and uncertainty away, and she cannot suppress the gentle pitter-patter of butterflies from fluttering within the pit of her belly, nor her wildly beating heart. Her smile is fleeting, but true, with soft words to accompany it.
"And now that you're here, I don't want to let you leave - but .."
”Before I met you, I ran into an old .. colleague,” could she call Dahmer a friend? No, not until after – he had been little more than an acquaintance until then, but she had found solace in him, and he in her, if only for a short while. ”it was some .. part of me trying to forget, trying to move on, and he the same.” She pauses, then, her breath warm across his cheek, her gaze searching his own, the same lingering doubt returning and roiling in her stomach. ”Our brief moment in time together had a consequence.”
Gently, her wings (now aching from being extended far too long) shift and adjust against her swollen barrel into their usual placement along her sides, revealing what she had been so keen to hide.
”I’m pregnant, and it’s his,” and the words are so difficult, she nearly chokes, her voice shuddering from the sheer effort of telling him her own secret. Her time with Ledger, too, had been so little – but it had meant so much more, and riddled with a passion, a chemistry she had never felt before, and for a moment, her aching heart is yearning to be telling him that it is his child, and not another’s, but fate had dealt a different hand.
”I’m so sorry, Ledger .. I wish ..”
Never had she given herself to another; not completely.
(Not even to Magnus.)
And yet, with her lips pressed against the warmth of his skin, and while feeling his blood pulsing through his veins and his heart beating in time with her own, she can see the promise of something more – she can feel it in the very marrow of her bones. He is frail – too thin, with jutting bone and lean muscle, but there is strength in his every word, and he is unabashedly honest, open and vulnerable to her. He, too, is broken, not unlike her, but beneath his iron chest plate lay a heart that is still beating, still thriving, just like her own.
She can feel his sinewy muscle stiffen beneath her touch, and quietly, tersely, he is muttering to her - do not punish me for my father’s mistakes - and she is searching his gaze with her own, brushing her mouth over his jawline, and across his cheek, tendering placing a kiss wherever her lips linger for too long. Longing to soothe the ache that must lie within for such painfully wrought words to find their way to the surface.
”No, don’t apologize,” she murmurs softly against the corner of his mouth, ”I promise that I’m not – that I won’t; you are not him.” And she is quiet, then – contemplating. ”And that was not fair of me to say.”
Magnus had been but a glimmering star amid a plethora of constellations littering the vast abyss of her celestial existence; a burning, glowing star nearing its own extinction – dimming with each passing day. He had opened her eyes, her mind, and her heart when she had been so dark, bitter, and defensive, but their relationship had been the very definition of dysfunction. He had a broken heart, a tormented mind, and a lifetime or two of memories both pleasurable and painful to weigh him down, and she was but a girl, foolish and longing to mend what she could; burned and scarred in the process.
As time goes on, she cannot keep herself from feeling an ebbing of doubt at the frayed edges of her memories. Had she ever known love at all?
The guilt of their union (however small that guilt had been) had long since faded – Magnus had left, without so much as a word to her – without ever meeting their youngest; a daughter. She owed him nothing, and as time carried on, as Ledger pressed his own lips to her own, tender with a flicker of heat, her mind is anywhere but on him - when she is quiet, and reserved, it is only because she is wary for her heart, and not of Ledger, not of the situation. Magnus is little more than a memory, and what lay before her is hardened bone and flesh - his touch warm, his heart open, and his soul restless for her own.
She would be a fool not to see.
His confession is heavy, but her kisses are feather-light, tracing every sharp line and ridge of his face, brushing away his tangled, ivory tresses away from the hollow point in which an eye once lay. But then he draws her closer, to look her in the eye, to chase away the shadow of fear and uncertainty away, and she cannot suppress the gentle pitter-patter of butterflies from fluttering within the pit of her belly, nor her wildly beating heart. Her smile is fleeting, but true, with soft words to accompany it.
"And now that you're here, I don't want to let you leave - but .."
”Before I met you, I ran into an old .. colleague,” could she call Dahmer a friend? No, not until after – he had been little more than an acquaintance until then, but she had found solace in him, and he in her, if only for a short while. ”it was some .. part of me trying to forget, trying to move on, and he the same.” She pauses, then, her breath warm across his cheek, her gaze searching his own, the same lingering doubt returning and roiling in her stomach. ”Our brief moment in time together had a consequence.”
Gently, her wings (now aching from being extended far too long) shift and adjust against her swollen barrel into their usual placement along her sides, revealing what she had been so keen to hide.
”I’m pregnant, and it’s his,” and the words are so difficult, she nearly chokes, her voice shuddering from the sheer effort of telling him her own secret. Her time with Ledger, too, had been so little – but it had meant so much more, and riddled with a passion, a chemistry she had never felt before, and for a moment, her aching heart is yearning to be telling him that it is his child, and not another’s, but fate had dealt a different hand.
”I’m so sorry, Ledger .. I wish ..”
head of war of tephra
daughter of elysium & speck
daughter of elysium & speck
@[Ledger]