boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.
An ache, one so strong it twists Litotes’ insides like pretzels, has taken control of his body. For days now the sensation has built and built until he thinks the discomfort is choking him: wrapping long, slender, pale fingers around his throat and squeezing until the bones of his neck snap. Pain that grips his muscles and joints and tugs, as if there are puppet strings attached to his limbs that tighten and tighten until he is a horribly coiled and combative machine. Nothing feels right when he exists like this: all food too bland, all water too hot, all touch too barren.
It is a limbo - or a hell.
He is simply -
liminal.
Most of his suffering disappears when he sneaks the twins away for a day. Draco follows with his sly eyes and prying questions; Dove trotting just behind his tail and sweetly squeaking when she trails too close to its twitch. Apathy does not exist when Lie is nestled between his children, even if they are a symbol of a strange and powerful secret.
The limbo of black passes into grey and white vision, and for the time being the cremello is aware he is alive again.
They rest by a canyon river: Dove crying that she is thirsty, and Draco begrudgingly admitting that his mind reading is becoming too overwhelming around so many strangers. He smiles down at them half-heartedly, the love from the first time he saw them blooming into something so much bigger. He is dipping to ruffle Draco’s mane when he hears the unmistakable call of his wife. A worried glance of his gold eyes tells him that she is accompanied by beautiful filly, and that there is no ill-will in her gaze. Lie relaxes into a more comfortable stand, nervously twirling misty shadows at his twins’ hooves.
Kensa’s kiss is welcome, and the Archon leans into it with the tiniest feeling of relief. A small smile is all he can muster, before studying the child at her side in the second in between their touch and his wife’s words. She may be his, and she may not be. That hot, familiar flash of anger and jealousy tilts his eyes into slits, but any cutting remark he may have remains unsung. They know of each other’s trysts, after all. Lie cannot tear her from her pleasures when he does not demand the same of himself.
Still, that stifling guilt swallows the will to live his children’s presence gave him. She must not love them like he loves Starsin - or maybe she does, and she feels just as much guilt. There is no give away of that pain in her eyes, though, and he wonders briefly if she would tell him. He wants to talk about Starsin, to lay his fear and pain and guilt out so plainly, but he does not make time for it; or perhaps he is worried that his wife will love even more freely.
“Uh,” he says then stops abruptly, tilting his ears backward in a negative sort of curiosity. “Her name is Starsin. We were good friends when I was imprisoned in Loess.” Lie number one. He does not know how to tell her his best friend is someone he has never introduced her to, even if it was entirely on accident. “You should meet her.” His smile is weak when he offers it. “And Soothe is beautiful.” But he does not ask like she does, he does not want to know. Call it jealousy or call it trying to understand one cannot own another - Litotes is not sure who he is in this moment.
and if i fall would you know that to do?
and if i'm caught up would you stay?
@[Kensa]
