08-21-2021, 07:21 PM
so don’t forget to love me in damnation
For the living i have earned on love gone wrong
For the living i have earned on love gone wrong
The world looks different from here.
Ennis is… where?
Someplace so far removed from her that she cannot even hear him.
Always fretting, her brother. Worried about things beyond their control. Worried about the darkness most of all. They are so rarely apart that they seem attached at the hip, but she is alone now and she left the sound of his fretting several miles back.
She inherited all the bravery, you see, and left none for Ennis. She teases him gently about this and he says it’s all right because he got all the color and left hardly any at all for her. But she doesn’t mind, not at all, because there is no shame in looking like their mother.
Alas, she is thinking of neither Ennis nor their mother as she ventures out into the darkness. She catches snippets of stranger’s thoughts as she passes them in the moonlight. She does not mean to, but she has never worked out how to control it nor has she ever felt any shame for the intrusive nature of her gift.
She is still young, though, and has not learned the inherent danger of it.
She will soon, no doubt, when she wanders into the meadow and within earshot of a young boy’s thoughts.
How the boy wishes to know of the sun.
(She will never be able to control this magic. It is not a magic that can be controlled. More a curse than a gift, perhaps.)
The glow starts in the center of her chest and spreads steadily outward. She stops short as heat collects on the surface of her skin, radiating outward, too.
She glances down at herself, brow furrowed, until she cannot bear to look any longer. Her own heat warms her cheeks and she draws in a steadying breath, trying not to panic.
She gazes out into the light she casts and spots him, this boy shot through with gold, and takes an uncertain step toward him. “Are you doing this?” she calls out to him.
Ennis is… where?
Someplace so far removed from her that she cannot even hear him.
Always fretting, her brother. Worried about things beyond their control. Worried about the darkness most of all. They are so rarely apart that they seem attached at the hip, but she is alone now and she left the sound of his fretting several miles back.
She inherited all the bravery, you see, and left none for Ennis. She teases him gently about this and he says it’s all right because he got all the color and left hardly any at all for her. But she doesn’t mind, not at all, because there is no shame in looking like their mother.
Alas, she is thinking of neither Ennis nor their mother as she ventures out into the darkness. She catches snippets of stranger’s thoughts as she passes them in the moonlight. She does not mean to, but she has never worked out how to control it nor has she ever felt any shame for the intrusive nature of her gift.
She is still young, though, and has not learned the inherent danger of it.
She will soon, no doubt, when she wanders into the meadow and within earshot of a young boy’s thoughts.
How the boy wishes to know of the sun.
(She will never be able to control this magic. It is not a magic that can be controlled. More a curse than a gift, perhaps.)
The glow starts in the center of her chest and spreads steadily outward. She stops short as heat collects on the surface of her skin, radiating outward, too.
She glances down at herself, brow furrowed, until she cannot bear to look any longer. Her own heat warms her cheeks and she draws in a steadying breath, trying not to panic.
She gazes out into the light she casts and spots him, this boy shot through with gold, and takes an uncertain step toward him. “Are you doing this?” she calls out to him.
anaise
@Nemeon
i took a couple liberties