GRETA
I once held your soldier heart between my war teeth; shook it like a dog with a bone until it knew the fear of good love.
" Do you remember? "
It had been too long - and not long enough. A night of never ending darkness - the way he had welcomed her so easily in the darkness of the night. Assured, safety, a cocoon of horns and hardness (but so soft! So gentle! So kind!). And then He had rent her away again -- to a cocoon of galaxies and stars and nothingness. Always stealing the light that she had found, forever deigning to take what she had built. A curse, a cacophony of pain and purgatory; something He would never let her escape.
“Still here.” The last murmur of words she had heard in her ears, as the dark encased them and her trembling form stilled to something quieter. Still here - a promise, a reassurance, a light to guide her to morning. Something she had never had (will never have). He had stood beside her, swearing himself to a stranger of the night, and she had been forced to flee.
How can you ask for forgiveness, when you do not deserve it? How could she come trembling up to the same lands she did before, when she had already wronged him? How do you explain that it was not her, but Him? How to put in words the hold that a magician can have?
“Ghaul?” And it is hardly a whisper. Is it her fear of asking louder - her shame in declaring herself again, of asking for help from him after she had fled so far? She is soft, and quiet. Would he even remember her? It had been years, and yet she had not changed in the least bit. The glass galaxy that He forced to hold her had forbid her from growing, from aging, from moving on (forever His little porcelain doll). “I’m sorry, Ghaul.” the wind sweeping away an apology that would never be heard.
@[ghaul]