05-04-2020, 04:49 PM
Many things cause Thorn pain now, but the way he avoids his family is the most crushing. Alone, cowed by his own thoughts and constant pulsing of others' pain in his chest, he languishes. The sabino hardly lives anymore - he hardly survives, in fact. He is thin, his movements marked with shakes and his face marked with the creasing of aches. Most days he remains curled beneath a copse of Tephran palm trees, wondering if the coconuts above his head will finally fall hard enough to strike him dead.
It is rare that Thorn finds the strength to go more than a few feet from his bed, but when winter strikes just hard enough to bite him with a weak chill, he rises on shivering limbs to find the source of Tephra's steam. He is frail enough to be roughly affected by a thin Tephran winter, so he reminds himself of the family that will mourn him if he dies, and searches for relief.
Thorn is numbly tracing the line of a creek that leads to the hot spring when he hears the hurtling body of Flower. Panic, healthy and painfully clear, widens his eyes and empties his mind. The sabino draws on what strength he was using to travel - and strength he feels imbued in him by Flower's love (strength that beats proudly in the gift his mother's magic gave his heart) - and heals his weakened muscles and shrinking stomach. The jutting rib cage cannot be helped, but now he can stand tall (can withstand the crashing girl leaning so lovingly into his side).
"Flower," the sabino mumbles, craning his neck around to peer at his shiny sister. She marks the first time Thorn fully understood unconditional love. Before his curse, he used to like to think that when he healed her at her birth, a little piece of his heart became a part of hers. "I missed you, too, my little ruby," he murmurs, though the affection in his voice is slightly strained.
He thinks he doesn't deserve to feel this happiness. Doesn't deserve to feel anything other than her pain as it forces more blood from his chest.
"Wait -" Thorn says as Flower curls around his side. He frowns, then sighs, then closes his eyes to fend off the impending exhaustion. She was bound to find out, he tells himself, though it certainly doesn't make seeing the look on her face any easier. "It's a long story, Flower," he begins, settling his best version of a calm gaze on her golden eyes, "It won't heal with just my magic." He thinks about explaining, about amending his absence to her, about setting in motion that which he must do to heal his chest -
But then he spots the fissures in his sister's legs; and instead, he balks.
"Ruby!" he gasps. "Let me fix those."
It is rare that Thorn finds the strength to go more than a few feet from his bed, but when winter strikes just hard enough to bite him with a weak chill, he rises on shivering limbs to find the source of Tephra's steam. He is frail enough to be roughly affected by a thin Tephran winter, so he reminds himself of the family that will mourn him if he dies, and searches for relief.
Thorn is numbly tracing the line of a creek that leads to the hot spring when he hears the hurtling body of Flower. Panic, healthy and painfully clear, widens his eyes and empties his mind. The sabino draws on what strength he was using to travel - and strength he feels imbued in him by Flower's love (strength that beats proudly in the gift his mother's magic gave his heart) - and heals his weakened muscles and shrinking stomach. The jutting rib cage cannot be helped, but now he can stand tall (can withstand the crashing girl leaning so lovingly into his side).
"Flower," the sabino mumbles, craning his neck around to peer at his shiny sister. She marks the first time Thorn fully understood unconditional love. Before his curse, he used to like to think that when he healed her at her birth, a little piece of his heart became a part of hers. "I missed you, too, my little ruby," he murmurs, though the affection in his voice is slightly strained.
He thinks he doesn't deserve to feel this happiness. Doesn't deserve to feel anything other than her pain as it forces more blood from his chest.
"Wait -" Thorn says as Flower curls around his side. He frowns, then sighs, then closes his eyes to fend off the impending exhaustion. She was bound to find out, he tells himself, though it certainly doesn't make seeing the look on her face any easier. "It's a long story, Flower," he begins, settling his best version of a calm gaze on her golden eyes, "It won't heal with just my magic." He thinks about explaining, about amending his absence to her, about setting in motion that which he must do to heal his chest -
But then he spots the fissures in his sister's legs; and instead, he balks.
"Ruby!" he gasps. "Let me fix those."
thorn
under your skin, over the moon
don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do
roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you, ooh
@[flower]