04-12-2021, 08:10 PM
stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;
better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
As summer spins on, Tiercel feels as though his mind is hazy and clear all at once. The sun fiercely bears down on him, and a piece of him is grateful for the intense light. Yet the rest of him (the majority of him) cannot shake the contrasting bright-white and deep-dark of the Underworld. At least, that’s what he thinks it is; it felt like hell to Tiercel, and he will be deeply concerned if it wasn’t. The harmony of screams ring in his ears in his nightmares, and he often wakes with cold sweat layered thickly on his skin.
And the pain… Despite his best efforts of confining those memories into a forbidden corner of his mind, Tiercel often feels the lingering effects of the consuming agony.
The trauma strikes him at odd moments. On this particular early morning, the sunrise looks too bloody for Tiercel to handle. The sky is washed in shades of red and orange, and it would look beautiful on any other morning — yet it reminds him of the pale winged mare, her blood splashing the black clay. He pictures the way her eyes rolled as she died, the way her body shook as their guard crouched over her, and the way life suddenly returned to her so her death could begin all over again.
He imagines that slow, torturous process as it happened to him. He feels every burning inch of it, and it scares away whatever exhaustion remains behind his eyes.
Tiercel heads toward the border, hoping that he can keep his eyes on patrolling instead of observing the mare’s blood coating the sky. The navy dun wonders if he will draw the attention of any lingering nighttime predators; since his return topside, Tiercel has noticed the core of his heart and the cords of his blood vessels glow with every heartbeat. He pulsates from the inside out, and it makes him sick to his stomach, knowing what the glow represents.
The sight of Gale’s familiar brindle stripes provides a hopeful distraction. Tiercel aims his path toward his brother, gathering his anxiety and fear close to his chest so he will only feel it. “Don’t be a stranger,” he says with as much warmth as he can express. “You know this place is home just as much as Islandres.”
And the pain… Despite his best efforts of confining those memories into a forbidden corner of his mind, Tiercel often feels the lingering effects of the consuming agony.
The trauma strikes him at odd moments. On this particular early morning, the sunrise looks too bloody for Tiercel to handle. The sky is washed in shades of red and orange, and it would look beautiful on any other morning — yet it reminds him of the pale winged mare, her blood splashing the black clay. He pictures the way her eyes rolled as she died, the way her body shook as their guard crouched over her, and the way life suddenly returned to her so her death could begin all over again.
He imagines that slow, torturous process as it happened to him. He feels every burning inch of it, and it scares away whatever exhaustion remains behind his eyes.
Tiercel heads toward the border, hoping that he can keep his eyes on patrolling instead of observing the mare’s blood coating the sky. The navy dun wonders if he will draw the attention of any lingering nighttime predators; since his return topside, Tiercel has noticed the core of his heart and the cords of his blood vessels glow with every heartbeat. He pulsates from the inside out, and it makes him sick to his stomach, knowing what the glow represents.
The sight of Gale’s familiar brindle stripes provides a hopeful distraction. Tiercel aims his path toward his brother, gathering his anxiety and fear close to his chest so he will only feel it. “Don’t be a stranger,” he says with as much warmth as he can express. “You know this place is home just as much as Islandres.”
tiercel.
@[Gale]