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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening

    COTY

    GHAUL -- Year 209

    QOTY

    "(souls are not meant to live more than once — death was not meant to be temporary, and she is so sure that every time her heart starts to beat again that irreversible damage is further inflicted)" -- Anonya, written by Colby


    resurrect the saint within the wretch; flower
    #11

    He had been certain that he would awake to an emptiness beside him that would match the hole in his heart, but it is filled with molten sunlight and rubied lips; with wide and uncertain eyes that search the depths of his desperately, trying to fill in the gaps that he so hopelessly tries to keep from her. As concern ripples across the crystalline of her beautiful face, his own contorts into distraught, hardening with the realization that he is what put it there in the first place. Is she terrified, scared? Even then she is at his side in an instant, seeking to soothe despite her own confusion and hurt, which made regret and guilt plague him all the more. He allows himself to wonder bitterly if she still finds her last exclamation to be true - did she want to be there with him?

    Warden cannot pull away from her, however selfish it may be. His dream hadn’t been a premonition but it still rattled him to his core - the thought of knowing he would lose her - and he selfishly allows himself to be engulfed by her embrace, a shuddering sigh from his lips pressing into the coolness of her cheek. Her voice is so small yet so steady against him, a soothing warmth against the glass of her skin that now feels so familiar, so intoxicating. Her apology is met with a displeased snort, curling his neck slightly so that the darkness of his eyes fall into hers, his brow furrowing almost angrily. “Flower.” His voice is heavy with sleep and with a firmness he had yet to use with her - but he had to make sure she was listening.

    His expression softens, as if a realization has come to him, the sharp furrow of his brow breaking into that of inquisitivity, a passive thoughtfulness. “You are not responsible for the broken pieces inside me.” Warden’s voice has softened in solemnity, in truth, and his lips trailing from her golden cheek to her ears so that he may speak intimately to her. Both are still curled together on the sand, dawn rising across the ocean that rolls and thrums timidly in the distance. Warden’s pale mouth presses tenderly in a gentle kiss just behind her jawline, trembling as the white of his lashes close around his eyes. His chin tips upwards to pull her to his chest with a gentle tug, admiring the glimmering of her glass flowers and amber skin. “There are things that sheer will cannot fix; dark, ugly things that even love cannot fully erase.”

    Warden’s breath catches in his throat at his own remark, thankful that her head is cradled in the strength of his chest so she did not see the wave of uncertainty pass over his expression. It wasn’t like him to speak so boldly, to suggest such things; as if he knew anything about love and the power it wields. “I - ” his voice is caught, hesitant and unsure as it sits in his throat, “I don’t want you to go, Flower.” Please don’t go. He wants to forbid her from leaving his side, to battle his demons for him each and every night - but he can’t so instead his embrace around her tightens with his words.

    Her presence did not keep the darkness at bay, but he had been coming face to face with that beast every night since he had been born.

    Her absence upon waking, however, he believes will be the thing that will tear him in two.

    WARDEN




    flower
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