10-16-2021, 09:10 PM
Mazikeen
She is not close with her parents but they are alive as far as she knows. Mazikeen can sympathize with Firion’s grief but she does not know what it is to lose a parent.
There have been other losses but she is still burying those as deeply as she can, a habit that she cannot seem to break. Maybe even one she is scared to.
For a moment, Mazikeen thinks that almost-groan is a protest at her closeness. She is only just forming the thought to move away but then he pulls her close with a sure force and she forgets all thoughts of any space. She holds Firion as fiercely as she can through every shudder and sob, her own tears drawn out by his pain and they leak quietly from her closed eyes. Every sound through his gritted teeth slices at her and makes her want to alter worlds just to fix this for him, to find a way to undo death itself. She’d seen Gale do it with their daughter, it had to be possible.
Gentle, wordless noises rise from the back of her throat as she holds him because that’s all she can do for now. She does not even consider shifting into something that can more thoroughly embrace him. She doesn’t want to be anything but herself with him - so she only has her body and the strength he had helped her rediscover. Such small gifts to offer and yet of course she will give whatever she can.
Mazikeen does not pay attention to the passage of time, it is of small importance as they cling together. He eases his hold on her a little and she only shifts a little. Just enough space that the rise and fall of her breaths only brushes against his skin instead of being fused with it.
Her heart breaks again at his mangled words and Mazikeen briefly wonders how she ever could have thought Firion incapable of emotion or attachment. It had been such a very finely crafted mask, what he had shown her when they were younger.
If there are proper words to say in this moment, she doesn’t know what they are. So she only offers quiet words as she buries her muzzle in his mane and presses a soft kiss against his skin as if she could send her resolute belief in this truth through that touch. “It’s not your fault.”
If anyone could have saved Ryatah, she knows with certainty it would’ve been him.
It is a little strange how her faith in Firion has solidified inside of her heart. Even if she is unsure of some things, other parts of them have become her bedrock. She does not think it is simply because he had been the first face she saw in this life - though she is glad that he was. Instead, it feels like something that could have been there all along if either of them had given it a chance to grow.
There have been other losses but she is still burying those as deeply as she can, a habit that she cannot seem to break. Maybe even one she is scared to.
For a moment, Mazikeen thinks that almost-groan is a protest at her closeness. She is only just forming the thought to move away but then he pulls her close with a sure force and she forgets all thoughts of any space. She holds Firion as fiercely as she can through every shudder and sob, her own tears drawn out by his pain and they leak quietly from her closed eyes. Every sound through his gritted teeth slices at her and makes her want to alter worlds just to fix this for him, to find a way to undo death itself. She’d seen Gale do it with their daughter, it had to be possible.
Gentle, wordless noises rise from the back of her throat as she holds him because that’s all she can do for now. She does not even consider shifting into something that can more thoroughly embrace him. She doesn’t want to be anything but herself with him - so she only has her body and the strength he had helped her rediscover. Such small gifts to offer and yet of course she will give whatever she can.
Mazikeen does not pay attention to the passage of time, it is of small importance as they cling together. He eases his hold on her a little and she only shifts a little. Just enough space that the rise and fall of her breaths only brushes against his skin instead of being fused with it.
Her heart breaks again at his mangled words and Mazikeen briefly wonders how she ever could have thought Firion incapable of emotion or attachment. It had been such a very finely crafted mask, what he had shown her when they were younger.
If there are proper words to say in this moment, she doesn’t know what they are. So she only offers quiet words as she buries her muzzle in his mane and presses a soft kiss against his skin as if she could send her resolute belief in this truth through that touch. “It’s not your fault.”
If anyone could have saved Ryatah, she knows with certainty it would’ve been him.
It is a little strange how her faith in Firion has solidified inside of her heart. Even if she is unsure of some things, other parts of them have become her bedrock. She does not think it is simply because he had been the first face she saw in this life - though she is glad that he was. Instead, it feels like something that could have been there all along if either of them had given it a chance to grow.
@firion