how much heartache can we take; any

[Reuen]

Is it just me, Or do you wonder if we're put here just to see, The inky darkness wraps it's dangerous tendrils tightly around me, wrapping them fingers as tight as the can around my neck, kissing my chocolate form with kisses like some old lover, some old, dangerous lover with a grudge. The bruises lay beneath my skin as prominent as the scars that could tell a thousand stories. Tales of woe, tales of blissful pain, but I.. I wouldn't even know where to begin. It is like a blank page before me, my shaking hand clutching a quill and I dare to write something, anything but nothing comes. All that slips from me, is a hunting lullaby from my lips. A hollow pain that sits just in my chest, where my heart is meant to be. It feels empty, as vacant as my mind, and my stare. The Gates had welcomed me, strangely. Arms of roughy bark opened and embraced me, the rolling viridian fields lay by my feet. the running crystalline waters had given me sustenance and fill and had bathed my wounds. There is much gratitude in me, if I knew how to express it. Instead I stand like some shadowy figure, immobile and as still as an angel in a cemetery. Weeping quietly, her broken wings limp by her side. Ah, but I am no angel, I am sure of that one thing in my life. Angels do not have scars as rigid and as deep as mine, and Angels, they knew what their purpose in life was, and I, I knew nothing. The sound of footfalls breaks my thoughts; and the crumble like a thousand glass crystals at my feet. All very well, I was not getting very far with piecing together anything. I match his steps, lifting one hoof, then another, then my hinds, but I do not move forward not back, simply staying in place. Marching nowhere but still allowing the mechanical movements to throb my muscles. 'Welcome to the Gates.' I say, like a magpie I repeat him, a lark's song, broken and clipped, I tilt my head, hollowed eyes meeting his. The night graces him with a gentle touch, and the Gates does not shiver with disdain or fright. He is as part of the Gates as the great oaks, or the tender blades of grass. I extend my muzzle, a strange creation of a smile pulling and twisting my lips. 'Name. Name is Reuen. All is Reuen, all is ruin.' the same, it is always the same, broken words slipping like delicate shards of crystal, being held with shaking fingers. I step ever so slightly forward, and then retreat back to my invisible pedestal. Gargoyles needed to stay put, and as I was not an angel, nor a demon, a gargoyle seemed far more fitting. The screams echo in my ears, past history galloping behind me. I turn my head, widened eyes watching out into the night. Nothing. No one. A feathery sigh slips my lips and I turn my tawny gaze to Mast. 'The Gates saved me. Wichita. Tioga. Fiasko. Jason.' I word each of them, crystalline clear, rolling across my tongue as sweet as the emerald blades hidden within the forest. I dip my head along to each name that slips my lips, and then I swivel my crown to look at the creek beyond the shadows. 'The Gates. Home. Safe.' I pause, drilling my eyes into him, curious, curious indeed. 'You know that, don't you?' How much heartache we can take, Without hanging from the tallest tree? - resident of the gates -