she fell for the idea of him
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
She has been relatively quiet ever since the afterlife was opened, or at least, quiet by her standards. From the outskirts she watched as the dead returned and their loved ones rejoiced – over and over, she watched the same scene unfold. And it had hurt, at first, knowing that that would never be her. Even if Dhumin did come back, what would that even mean? It wouldn’t mean happiness – they were never meant for that. He was calloused and cold, and things would have been exactly as they were before, with her just a broken afterthought that sat there waiting to be remembered.
But maybe there was a part of her that missed that. That was a brokenness she was used to; the kind she had lived with for countless years. There was a time when her heart beat for no other reason than to try and gain his acceptance, when all she wanted was a glance spared her way or a touch that didn’t leave her feeling emptier than before.
Sometimes she thinks that would be better than whatever it is she feels right now. When she fluctuates between feeling almost nothing to feeling everything all at once, when she feels like something inside of her is going to either combust or she’s going to just dissolve to nothing. She wonders where Skellig is, and then immediately feels guilty for even wondering. He was gone, just as he should be, because she hadn’t given him a reason to stay. She never gave anyone a reason to stay, she realizes; she only wanted the things she couldn’t have, things that never would or could be hers, even though something as beautiful and perfect like Skellig was there all along.
Maybe she could finally get used to being alone.
From the corner of her eye she sees a familiar flash of white, and with a turn of her haloed head her dark eyes settle on Agetta. She hasn’t seen her since they all escaped the afterlife, and the first thing she notices is that she looks happy. It’s not jealousy that sparks in her chest; she’s not even sure what it is, actually, but perhaps a strange sort of longing. “Agetta,” she calls her name softly, stepping through the golden summer grass that sways in the breeze. The afternoon sunlight catches the gilded feathers that lay scattered throughout the white of her wings, and the ring of light above her head all the more illuminated by the backlight of the sun. “You made it out unscathed, it seems,” is all she says once she is close enough, her eyes sweeping over her as she wonders if she, too, was somehow changed.
But maybe there was a part of her that missed that. That was a brokenness she was used to; the kind she had lived with for countless years. There was a time when her heart beat for no other reason than to try and gain his acceptance, when all she wanted was a glance spared her way or a touch that didn’t leave her feeling emptier than before.
Sometimes she thinks that would be better than whatever it is she feels right now. When she fluctuates between feeling almost nothing to feeling everything all at once, when she feels like something inside of her is going to either combust or she’s going to just dissolve to nothing. She wonders where Skellig is, and then immediately feels guilty for even wondering. He was gone, just as he should be, because she hadn’t given him a reason to stay. She never gave anyone a reason to stay, she realizes; she only wanted the things she couldn’t have, things that never would or could be hers, even though something as beautiful and perfect like Skellig was there all along.
Maybe she could finally get used to being alone.
From the corner of her eye she sees a familiar flash of white, and with a turn of her haloed head her dark eyes settle on Agetta. She hasn’t seen her since they all escaped the afterlife, and the first thing she notices is that she looks happy. It’s not jealousy that sparks in her chest; she’s not even sure what it is, actually, but perhaps a strange sort of longing. “Agetta,” she calls her name softly, stepping through the golden summer grass that sways in the breeze. The afternoon sunlight catches the gilded feathers that lay scattered throughout the white of her wings, and the ring of light above her head all the more illuminated by the backlight of the sun. “You made it out unscathed, it seems,” is all she says once she is close enough, her eyes sweeping over her as she wonders if she, too, was somehow changed.
ryatah