08-15-2017, 10:45 PM
Ellyse
I know some things that you don't; I've done things that you won't
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
The morning had been quiet and tranquil – she had been barely pulled from the lull of slumber when the father of her son had whisked him away beneath the warm, alluring glow of morning light. Thus, she had spent the better part of the day in solitude, savoring the gentle caress of the salty ocean breeze, and the feel of the wayward wind beneath each golden wing. It was not often that she was without him beside her, and as such, she had shied away from the open sky above, and the thickness of the haze weaving through her bristling feathers is more than enough to rejuvenate her tired and weary spirit.
By the end of day, however, there is a subtle ache in her chest. She is often quiet and hardened, concealing the tender affection so few had seen beneath the callous exterior she held so close to her fiercely guarded and heavily barbed heart. Yet, with her son nestled into the curve of her barrel, his eyes wide, curious and alight with mischief, she is reminded of the flickering ember burning inside of her heart, only for those held closest to her – slight, and faint, but burning brightly for those who held any small piece of her as he surely did.
When the distant echo of Dahmer and his deep, rumbling call has reached her, she is drawn away from a simmering, bubbling spring, where she had spent idle time, awaiting the fading sunlight in the far off horizon with its resplendence draping the gilded surface of her skin in a deep, cerise overlay. She cannot conceal the warmth of her smile, tugging at the corners of her usually straight and firmly pursed mouth as Smoak and Dahmer inevitably come into view. It is with nothing more than a sweeping stride that the space lingering in between them is closed, her pale lips pressed against the nape of her son’s neck, tasting the salt and cleansing him of the musk of a day spent languishing in the sunlight.
”I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost,” she muses, a hint of humor laced in her voice, her deep hazel eyes searching the endless, piercing ice of her one-time lover. He held a piece of her, however small, captured by the light and life of the progeny forged that fateful night that seemed so long ago, and so slowly – slowly, the heavily fortified wall of her iron will has crumbled away. With a gentle nudge to Smoak’s jawline, she inquires (already knowing too well the answer), ”did you have a good time?”
By the end of day, however, there is a subtle ache in her chest. She is often quiet and hardened, concealing the tender affection so few had seen beneath the callous exterior she held so close to her fiercely guarded and heavily barbed heart. Yet, with her son nestled into the curve of her barrel, his eyes wide, curious and alight with mischief, she is reminded of the flickering ember burning inside of her heart, only for those held closest to her – slight, and faint, but burning brightly for those who held any small piece of her as he surely did.
When the distant echo of Dahmer and his deep, rumbling call has reached her, she is drawn away from a simmering, bubbling spring, where she had spent idle time, awaiting the fading sunlight in the far off horizon with its resplendence draping the gilded surface of her skin in a deep, cerise overlay. She cannot conceal the warmth of her smile, tugging at the corners of her usually straight and firmly pursed mouth as Smoak and Dahmer inevitably come into view. It is with nothing more than a sweeping stride that the space lingering in between them is closed, her pale lips pressed against the nape of her son’s neck, tasting the salt and cleansing him of the musk of a day spent languishing in the sunlight.
”I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost,” she muses, a hint of humor laced in her voice, her deep hazel eyes searching the endless, piercing ice of her one-time lover. He held a piece of her, however small, captured by the light and life of the progeny forged that fateful night that seemed so long ago, and so slowly – slowly, the heavily fortified wall of her iron will has crumbled away. With a gentle nudge to Smoak’s jawline, she inquires (already knowing too well the answer), ”did you have a good time?”
head of war of tephra
daughter of elysium & speck
daughter of elysium & speck
@[Dahmer]