- Jun 9, 2022
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[Takes place after this thread! ]
A tragedy, not so long ago.
It's cruel in it's timing. The crashing of ocean waves above his head when the reality should be so much more joyful. The night should be alight with wonder, everything he could ask for in this moment, despite the screams and the constant chatter. The smile he's worn ever since that night– not-waning, insistent, unnerving; he himself a mimicry of the one he loves most. (And love– love. Wasn't that such a thing to think, to live, to breathe? To cozy yourself the best you can despite the season's freeze, and warm yourself knowing you are loved, and you too love something, someone, a someone you'd never forget). He'd thought that smile neverending, and then a corpse had been delivered to his door.
He hates that he hadn't known before. He hadn't known that he loved her too, a different kind. For all his distance, he cared. How could he not, when he had been there that day? When he could he could what Blaise and his love did for the five of them. When he looked at him with such light in his eyes and named her so.
Under other circumstances, he wouldn't have even been there. The matter was personal, the names of one's children, he even knows. He hadn't expected a thing, only stood by in the case of complications.
After my dearest friend, he'd said, and she'd lived. And now–
He's been staring, he realizes. Storm-overcast, eyes clouded as he dully appraises the catmint he'd left on the way here. Brittle in leaf-bare. Being left unattended for so long surely did it no favors, but it would do fine. He's just glad it remains, and hasn't been snapped up by a watering jaw between now and then. He sways on his feet. Whips his head suddenly, to see that Mallowlark's still there. Too sudden. Too fast. He's... dizzy. Moonlit eyes flash wide, but so quickly fall back into a lull. "Ss-sorry," he mumbles. A word nearly cursed; said more within these few nights than throughout his entire lifetime.
"You alright?" he'd nearly forgotten to ask. Though, before he could answer, "You will be," then follows. He leans to grasp the herb with such sluggishness, his body betrays him so. Seemingly, it pays no mind to the franticness of his mind. Fix him, please, make it better. It's all he wants. No more of this ever hanging cloud, fear that Mallowlark would pass, and Dawnglare wouldn't even know it. No more of it. "Oh, please..." whispered thin, though he hadn't meant to say anything at all.
Easily, he glosses over it, concentrates on talking despite the tickling in his maw. "Y-you ever smelled catmint before?" He tilts his chin upward, and the stem flutters along with him. Just to make sure he understood that this was the herb in question. "S'to die for. I could just– die." He isn't sure why that leaves his own mouth. It isn't true. He doesn't know if he finds it horrifically sad or terribly amusing. His eyes frantically meet the other's then, as if to make sure he wouldn't keel over at the very word. Mallowlark told him he wouldn't.
"I couldn't– I can't–" Why had he said that? It's impossible. His head aches. "Doesn't taste as good as it smells, y'should savor it... hm?" Inviting, he nudges closer. Sincere, but not too much– so much so. Too much and the gathering would be over and done with before Mallowlark could return. He wouldn't want him to be in trouble.
[ @MALLOWLARK ]
A tragedy, not so long ago.
It's cruel in it's timing. The crashing of ocean waves above his head when the reality should be so much more joyful. The night should be alight with wonder, everything he could ask for in this moment, despite the screams and the constant chatter. The smile he's worn ever since that night– not-waning, insistent, unnerving; he himself a mimicry of the one he loves most. (And love– love. Wasn't that such a thing to think, to live, to breathe? To cozy yourself the best you can despite the season's freeze, and warm yourself knowing you are loved, and you too love something, someone, a someone you'd never forget). He'd thought that smile neverending, and then a corpse had been delivered to his door.
He hates that he hadn't known before. He hadn't known that he loved her too, a different kind. For all his distance, he cared. How could he not, when he had been there that day? When he could he could what Blaise and his love did for the five of them. When he looked at him with such light in his eyes and named her so.
Under other circumstances, he wouldn't have even been there. The matter was personal, the names of one's children, he even knows. He hadn't expected a thing, only stood by in the case of complications.
After my dearest friend, he'd said, and she'd lived. And now–
He's been staring, he realizes. Storm-overcast, eyes clouded as he dully appraises the catmint he'd left on the way here. Brittle in leaf-bare. Being left unattended for so long surely did it no favors, but it would do fine. He's just glad it remains, and hasn't been snapped up by a watering jaw between now and then. He sways on his feet. Whips his head suddenly, to see that Mallowlark's still there. Too sudden. Too fast. He's... dizzy. Moonlit eyes flash wide, but so quickly fall back into a lull. "Ss-sorry," he mumbles. A word nearly cursed; said more within these few nights than throughout his entire lifetime.
"You alright?" he'd nearly forgotten to ask. Though, before he could answer, "You will be," then follows. He leans to grasp the herb with such sluggishness, his body betrays him so. Seemingly, it pays no mind to the franticness of his mind. Fix him, please, make it better. It's all he wants. No more of this ever hanging cloud, fear that Mallowlark would pass, and Dawnglare wouldn't even know it. No more of it. "Oh, please..." whispered thin, though he hadn't meant to say anything at all.
Easily, he glosses over it, concentrates on talking despite the tickling in his maw. "Y-you ever smelled catmint before?" He tilts his chin upward, and the stem flutters along with him. Just to make sure he understood that this was the herb in question. "S'to die for. I could just– die." He isn't sure why that leaves his own mouth. It isn't true. He doesn't know if he finds it horrifically sad or terribly amusing. His eyes frantically meet the other's then, as if to make sure he wouldn't keel over at the very word. Mallowlark told him he wouldn't.
"I couldn't– I can't–" Why had he said that? It's impossible. His head aches. "Doesn't taste as good as it smells, y'should savor it... hm?" Inviting, he nudges closer. Sincere, but not too much– so much so. Too much and the gathering would be over and done with before Mallowlark could return. He wouldn't want him to be in trouble.
[ @MALLOWLARK ]