09-06-2016, 09:11 PM
YOU CAN STAND ME UP AT THE GATES OF HELL, BUT I WON'T BACK DOWN.
Guilt befalls him; swallowing him whole and leaving him to rest in the unsettled bile of regret and longing. Though weary, his muscles and mind are both restless, and he cannot obtain reprieve from the tortuous, heavy thoughts that riddle his tired mind. The dawn had brought with it such devastation and destruction that it would take hours, weeks, maybe even years to fully comprehend sense of immense loss that remains in the wake of the aftermath - but yet, it is not the tireless mountain peaks, or the thick permafrost of the North - nor even the silver-tinted moonlight bathing the beach in its light that his heart aches for most. Neither his bones or his mind will settle until she is near to him again, cradled against the broadness of his chest, her breath warm against his shoulder.
Dusk has begun to descend, cloaking the ground in its brilliant hues of blood orange and corrosion, soothing the restless, aimless souls beneath its evening caress - or at least attempting to. Bitterness stirs within the iron cage of his chest as the memories filter through his mind, his heavy but robust limbs carrying him along the rooted foundation of the newly birthed mountain. For hours he had paced, his steady eyes of fire and brimstone peering up towards the bright, clear blue sky, longing to see the sloping silhouette of her beauty, the wonder of her doe eyes, but soon he cannot take any more disappointment.
Each body that lumbers along the sloping side of the mountain leave him more angry, more anguished, more troubled. Had she been injured? Had she been swallowed by the ruthless, callous hand of the land, buried alive with a single gasping breath? Sorrow ebbed away at the edges of his sanity, and his heart clenched within his chest at the mere thought of it. The final glance that had been shared was one of panic, of pleading - something unspoken he would never forgive himself for if she had perished. Oh, how his heart aches at the mere thought. He had sworn to protect her - and what had happened?
Festering within his own misery, his breath catches as his own burning eyes meet with hers, his heart leaping into the hollow of his throat. She is flawless, though her weary eyes tell a darker tale than the mirth that glimmers faintly in the very corners, but he sees nothing but unadulterated perfection and suddenly his heart is nearly whole (for the weight of not knowing where all of his children are still leaves at etched void within). You're alive, she whispers softly, and he very nearly says the same but the darkened shadows of his woeful eyes need no words. With unsteady limbs, she presses and collapses against him, her chest shuddering with a shattered heartbeat and anguish laced in her bittersweet words.
The thick of his neck drapes over her own, and his whiskered lips touch gently to her shoulder, her scent engulfing him and leaving his heart pitter-pattering rhythmically against his chest - an ease he worried he would never again feel.
"Never," He murmurs gently, cradling her close to his broad chest. "you will never be without me again, my sweet Isle."
Dusk has begun to descend, cloaking the ground in its brilliant hues of blood orange and corrosion, soothing the restless, aimless souls beneath its evening caress - or at least attempting to. Bitterness stirs within the iron cage of his chest as the memories filter through his mind, his heavy but robust limbs carrying him along the rooted foundation of the newly birthed mountain. For hours he had paced, his steady eyes of fire and brimstone peering up towards the bright, clear blue sky, longing to see the sloping silhouette of her beauty, the wonder of her doe eyes, but soon he cannot take any more disappointment.
Each body that lumbers along the sloping side of the mountain leave him more angry, more anguished, more troubled. Had she been injured? Had she been swallowed by the ruthless, callous hand of the land, buried alive with a single gasping breath? Sorrow ebbed away at the edges of his sanity, and his heart clenched within his chest at the mere thought of it. The final glance that had been shared was one of panic, of pleading - something unspoken he would never forgive himself for if she had perished. Oh, how his heart aches at the mere thought. He had sworn to protect her - and what had happened?
Festering within his own misery, his breath catches as his own burning eyes meet with hers, his heart leaping into the hollow of his throat. She is flawless, though her weary eyes tell a darker tale than the mirth that glimmers faintly in the very corners, but he sees nothing but unadulterated perfection and suddenly his heart is nearly whole (for the weight of not knowing where all of his children are still leaves at etched void within). You're alive, she whispers softly, and he very nearly says the same but the darkened shadows of his woeful eyes need no words. With unsteady limbs, she presses and collapses against him, her chest shuddering with a shattered heartbeat and anguish laced in her bittersweet words.
The thick of his neck drapes over her own, and his whiskered lips touch gently to her shoulder, her scent engulfing him and leaving his heart pitter-pattering rhythmically against his chest - an ease he worried he would never again feel.
"Never," He murmurs gently, cradling her close to his broad chest. "you will never be without me again, my sweet Isle."
OFFSPRING