(no subject)
ktēma es aei
:ALIF:
There were lights everywhere, small and vibrant, yet soft, like a strange snowy dream. There was a breeze, and along came with it a smell he would never forget, just like he’d never forget him. Him. He watched the tall, broad monster, magnificent in the garden of corpses, where bloody roses grew, like orbs of the deepest magic glowing - but he was terrifying in his tough beauty, muscles and tattoos, hard, frozen edges. There was stillness, yet movement everywhere: the air was full of expectation and resignation as he stood, beginning and end, strong and ruling, yellow mane deep with blood in the center of his hollow.
His mouth was dry.
But he set sail over the sea of dried grass nevertheless, eyes shifting nervously as souls drifted meaninglessly over their lost lives, begging to be buried and put to peace (so, so many of them), and he came closer and closer to the beast, fear and love making his neck prickle.
He almost saw the hackles on Godric’s neck.
“Go away.”, but he touched his arm softly, despite that low warning, fingertips smooth against rough skin, “I’ll kill you.”
He had a whisper of a thought, like moth and the light, but it disappeared like smoke in a dark, damp night, like this night.
:TA:
The summer was dry, the air almost crackling, his breath fast and furious as he ran in grass that tickled and grabbed his thighs, and he felt like a barbarian, sky crushing him, and there were things flying against him-
Blood-(red)-blood-(red)-blood.
There were snakes hissing in the grass. He fell, sliding on the warm ground, rolling in the dust - birds screeched, and there was a badger - he panted up at the moon silver and weird, fingers scraping against the bark: he jumped over dried yellow carnations, mouth dry.
He had… oh, those flowers… dead… his monster.
“I love you, I love you.”, he hissed, sobbing, “Believe me.”
There was someone behind him, and his head throbbed from fear, his heart frightened and fragile in his chest. He was prey. The forest loomed over him, choking. He searched for a lake, for water desperately, but this world was a desert, he was going to die of thirst-
-kisses. There were strong arms, cornering him to the three, and there were lips - he swooned. His name was suddenly the only word on his lips, it was all he could say, all he could breathe, and there was wetness, life on his dry mouth, a tongue pushing at him, and heat, so much heat - Godric was always on fire.
“I’ll kill you.”, he gasped into his mouth, roared in the quiet night, and the tree cracked under his weight, his power.
“Let me go… please… I must…”
That was the last night he ever saw beauty, ever felt heat, and ever heard a melody.
:ALIF:
There were lights everywhere, small and vibrant, yet soft, like a strange snowy dream. There was a breeze, and along came with it a smell he would never forget, just like he’d never forget him. Him. He watched the tall, broad monster, magnificent in the garden of corpses, where bloody roses grew, like orbs of the deepest magic glowing - but he was terrifying in his tough beauty, muscles and tattoos, hard, frozen edges. There was stillness, yet movement everywhere: the air was full of expectation and resignation as he stood, beginning and end, strong and ruling, yellow mane deep with blood in the center of his hollow.
His mouth was dry.
But he set sail over the sea of dried grass nevertheless, eyes shifting nervously as souls drifted meaninglessly over their lost lives, begging to be buried and put to peace (so, so many of them), and he came closer and closer to the beast, fear and love making his neck prickle.
He almost saw the hackles on Godric’s neck.
“Go away.”, but he touched his arm softly, despite that low warning, fingertips smooth against rough skin, “I’ll kill you.”
He had a whisper of a thought, like moth and the light, but it disappeared like smoke in a dark, damp night, like this night.
:TA:
The summer was dry, the air almost crackling, his breath fast and furious as he ran in grass that tickled and grabbed his thighs, and he felt like a barbarian, sky crushing him, and there were things flying against him-
Blood-(red)-blood-(red)-blood.
There were snakes hissing in the grass. He fell, sliding on the warm ground, rolling in the dust - birds screeched, and there was a badger - he panted up at the moon silver and weird, fingers scraping against the bark: he jumped over dried yellow carnations, mouth dry.
He had… oh, those flowers… dead… his monster.
“I love you, I love you.”, he hissed, sobbing, “Believe me.”
There was someone behind him, and his head throbbed from fear, his heart frightened and fragile in his chest. He was prey. The forest loomed over him, choking. He searched for a lake, for water desperately, but this world was a desert, he was going to die of thirst-
-kisses. There were strong arms, cornering him to the three, and there were lips - he swooned. His name was suddenly the only word on his lips, it was all he could say, all he could breathe, and there was wetness, life on his dry mouth, a tongue pushing at him, and heat, so much heat - Godric was always on fire.
“I’ll kill you.”, he gasped into his mouth, roared in the quiet night, and the tree cracked under his weight, his power.
“Let me go… please… I must…”
That was the last night he ever saw beauty, ever felt heat, and ever heard a melody.