02-08-2021, 12:52 AM
Ryatah
— there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree?
She is not often away from Atrox, but this night that refused to see morning has left her restless, tense. With each passing day Este grew weaker, no matter the things that they tried. At this rate she is afraid that the girl will not make it another year—not without sunlight. Ryatah didn’t have a solution, and while she knew she would not find it hiding anywhere in Hyaline, simply walking worked to ease some of the tension.
When the rain first began to fall she did not mind. With her angelic wings folded over her back most of the water ran off of her in glistening rivulets, tracing paths down the delicate angles of her face and gathering in beads along the strands of her glowing mane. It was only once the sky began to rumble with thunder that she paused to look over her shoulder, glancing backward at the path she had come from. She was going to turn back, to return to where she had left Atrox and the twins when the sky was suddenly alight with a jagged streak of lightning.
It was strange to see any kind of light after so long in the dark.
And then she laughs because it was strange for her to think the darkness was strange.
She moves towards a thick grove of trees, shaking the rain from her hair and her wings once she is under the safety of their limbs. She almost does not notice the shadows crawling toward her, for they blend in with the dark around them. But the feel of them as they twine up her legs is unmistakable, and even before she turns to find those familiar golden eyes his name is springing to her tongue. “Illum?” Even though she had known there is still a flash of pleasant surprise at the sight of him, and when her skin trembles at the familiar feel of his shadows on her skin it is not out of fear.
The space that he had left between them evaporates because she has never known how to keep distance between the things that are not hers, the things that she could wound with her careless, wicked heart. She reaches a softly glowing nose to his, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and for a moment she is lost beneath a wave of nostalgia. He had, after all, been hers, even if it was only for a short while. They had written their stories onto each other, shared moments that could never be stolen by anyone—moments that were theirs alone. And while she is not his, and he is not hers, it does not keep her from pressing the light of her into the dark of him, just as she had all those nights in Taiga.
From her mouth spills a laugh, light and silvery in comparison to the storm that rages around them. “I’m not afraid of the dark,” she tells him, even though she knows that he knows. With a tilt of her head she takes in the dark around them, and to the shadows that he had called back to him. “It never occurred to me until now that perhaps this endless night is your doing.” There is a knowingness to her smile, a coyness to the way she suggests teasingly, “Was I too difficult to find in the light?”
When the rain first began to fall she did not mind. With her angelic wings folded over her back most of the water ran off of her in glistening rivulets, tracing paths down the delicate angles of her face and gathering in beads along the strands of her glowing mane. It was only once the sky began to rumble with thunder that she paused to look over her shoulder, glancing backward at the path she had come from. She was going to turn back, to return to where she had left Atrox and the twins when the sky was suddenly alight with a jagged streak of lightning.
It was strange to see any kind of light after so long in the dark.
And then she laughs because it was strange for her to think the darkness was strange.
She moves towards a thick grove of trees, shaking the rain from her hair and her wings once she is under the safety of their limbs. She almost does not notice the shadows crawling toward her, for they blend in with the dark around them. But the feel of them as they twine up her legs is unmistakable, and even before she turns to find those familiar golden eyes his name is springing to her tongue. “Illum?” Even though she had known there is still a flash of pleasant surprise at the sight of him, and when her skin trembles at the familiar feel of his shadows on her skin it is not out of fear.
The space that he had left between them evaporates because she has never known how to keep distance between the things that are not hers, the things that she could wound with her careless, wicked heart. She reaches a softly glowing nose to his, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and for a moment she is lost beneath a wave of nostalgia. He had, after all, been hers, even if it was only for a short while. They had written their stories onto each other, shared moments that could never be stolen by anyone—moments that were theirs alone. And while she is not his, and he is not hers, it does not keep her from pressing the light of her into the dark of him, just as she had all those nights in Taiga.
From her mouth spills a laugh, light and silvery in comparison to the storm that rages around them. “I’m not afraid of the dark,” she tells him, even though she knows that he knows. With a tilt of her head she takes in the dark around them, and to the shadows that he had called back to him. “It never occurred to me until now that perhaps this endless night is your doing.” There is a knowingness to her smile, a coyness to the way she suggests teasingly, “Was I too difficult to find in the light?”
there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin —
@[Illum]