jamie
12-12-2021, 05:48 PM
jamie
I CAN’T EXACTLY DESCRIBE HOW I FEEL
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
Desire is gone.
As is Loess and all of the territories that had sat beneath it.
And he has crafted such a dreadful thing, set it loose on the world, peered through its eyes from afar. (Those eyes that ran and bled, dripped blood from the thing’s chin. And it is such a beautiful thing, this creature, who reeks of death and filth and rot.)
But it is Pangea he sees today. He does not delve into the thing’s mind now, does not watch while it grins and calls out to a world that does not listen. He wanders, all full of some itching restlessness. He flits between the canyons, visible only in the shadows, though it is difficult to discern him from them. (Still, it is only those freakish yellow eyes that set him apart.) Each time he drifts into the sun, harsh and unforgiving, he disappears from view entirely, only to appear again in the next pocket of darkness.
Will he stay?
He had fought on behalf of Pangea so many years ago, though he had been no warrior.
He is not a fool, Jamie, he knows that this is the only reason Desire had asked him to champion for the land.
And now she is gone. Beyza is gone. The Fates, too.
What is there left for him here?
Perhaps this is the purpose of his wandering, perhaps is seeking some new purpose.
Perhaps he is merely saying goodbye to the land that had birthed him.
(Is his mother here still? His father? Livinia? Anyone?)
He pauses in a pool of shadow, turns his gaze in the direction of the cave from which he had emerged, almost fully formed all those years ago. Waits.
For what, he doesn’t know.
As is Loess and all of the territories that had sat beneath it.
And he has crafted such a dreadful thing, set it loose on the world, peered through its eyes from afar. (Those eyes that ran and bled, dripped blood from the thing’s chin. And it is such a beautiful thing, this creature, who reeks of death and filth and rot.)
But it is Pangea he sees today. He does not delve into the thing’s mind now, does not watch while it grins and calls out to a world that does not listen. He wanders, all full of some itching restlessness. He flits between the canyons, visible only in the shadows, though it is difficult to discern him from them. (Still, it is only those freakish yellow eyes that set him apart.) Each time he drifts into the sun, harsh and unforgiving, he disappears from view entirely, only to appear again in the next pocket of darkness.
Will he stay?
He had fought on behalf of Pangea so many years ago, though he had been no warrior.
He is not a fool, Jamie, he knows that this is the only reason Desire had asked him to champion for the land.
And now she is gone. Beyza is gone. The Fates, too.
What is there left for him here?
Perhaps this is the purpose of his wandering, perhaps is seeking some new purpose.
Perhaps he is merely saying goodbye to the land that had birthed him.
(Is his mother here still? His father? Livinia? Anyone?)
He pauses in a pool of shadow, turns his gaze in the direction of the cave from which he had emerged, almost fully formed all those years ago. Waits.
For what, he doesn’t know.
AND IT LEAVES ME COLD