Odd... WIP... Thing?
Er. There should be a scenario here, but there isn't. AND it's not really done. But since it has some... pieces that I like, I guess... I'm posting this. Because it may or may not ever really be finished.
* * * * *
He placed his hands over his chest, and waited. An hour, two, he couldn't have said; time was as still as the mostly hollow cavity under his ribs. Another thing to be unfeeling of, though he didn't know anything about that.
Then, one thrum, a sensation without a name that spilled blood and loneliness along countless pathways that wove through his body. It rattled in him, vibrations shuddering, halting, fading as time wore away to nothing again. And his eyes, lost and precious like gold coins dropped on the street, rippled warmly into tears that shattered into dark blotches on his royal purple tunic. A thought, meaningless and cotton-soft, a need that he couldn't understand, but he whispered his words, and they danced with the withered flower petals on the breeze.
“H-help me...”
A dark-haired lady appeared above him, her features all turned round with shock, and he numbly allowed her to help him to his feet.
“Who... are you...?” He asked vaguely, though a thin, pencil-sketch of a memory fluttered behind his glassy eyes.
And he saw the pain on her face with perfect clarity. It wasn't his pain, so he could know it. Wrong. He had done something wrong, and it ground cruelly against his nature. His duty told him to correct it, and he bent to duty's merciless will, the same will that had broken his heart again. “I'm sorry...”
“No... No, my prince... you have done nothing wrong...” Her arms came around him, warm and secure and safe and everything else that would have comforted him if he could have only felt it. His sigh was listless, drained, a husk of breath. He didn't know why, he did not gain anything from it, but he pressed his forehead against the lady's shoulder, and when she ran her hand through his swan-feather hair, the fragment in his chest shook again. He flinched, remembering for that heartbeat.
“Why? It hurts. Can you tell me why?”
Rue could have screamed, but he wouldn't have understood, and she could at least spare her prince that pain.
* * * * *
He placed his hands over his chest, and waited. An hour, two, he couldn't have said; time was as still as the mostly hollow cavity under his ribs. Another thing to be unfeeling of, though he didn't know anything about that.
Then, one thrum, a sensation without a name that spilled blood and loneliness along countless pathways that wove through his body. It rattled in him, vibrations shuddering, halting, fading as time wore away to nothing again. And his eyes, lost and precious like gold coins dropped on the street, rippled warmly into tears that shattered into dark blotches on his royal purple tunic. A thought, meaningless and cotton-soft, a need that he couldn't understand, but he whispered his words, and they danced with the withered flower petals on the breeze.
“H-help me...”
A dark-haired lady appeared above him, her features all turned round with shock, and he numbly allowed her to help him to his feet.
“Who... are you...?” He asked vaguely, though a thin, pencil-sketch of a memory fluttered behind his glassy eyes.
And he saw the pain on her face with perfect clarity. It wasn't his pain, so he could know it. Wrong. He had done something wrong, and it ground cruelly against his nature. His duty told him to correct it, and he bent to duty's merciless will, the same will that had broken his heart again. “I'm sorry...”
“No... No, my prince... you have done nothing wrong...” Her arms came around him, warm and secure and safe and everything else that would have comforted him if he could have only felt it. His sigh was listless, drained, a husk of breath. He didn't know why, he did not gain anything from it, but he pressed his forehead against the lady's shoulder, and when she ran her hand through his swan-feather hair, the fragment in his chest shook again. He flinched, remembering for that heartbeat.
“Why? It hurts. Can you tell me why?”
Rue could have screamed, but he wouldn't have understood, and she could at least spare her prince that pain.