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+---- Thread: [P] Make Me Feel Alone (/showthread.php?tid=5783)
Make Me Feel Alone - Meira - 11-09-2020
↞ Meira ↠
His touch stains her. Every inch of her skin is hot, angry, and empty. So empty. He came to her again in the night. The lies spun from his mouth were just right. Too right. She should have known better. She did know better. Still, he gnawed on the scraps he'd been 'kind' enough to leave her. Meira feels the paths that her tears left on her face. He left on her face. Meira wants to be free from him and his lies. Her heart aches, because she cannot pry his filthy claws from its core. There is no sanctuary in all of Delumine that can cleanse the stench and filth and rot he has left behind. Each time, each time she gives in he robs her of herself. He robs her of the peace she is trying so hard to build in her life. Her anger pours from her blue chasms as her frame sweeps across the stone halls of the castle. It is early, so early. Before the dawn has a chance to kiss away the cloak of stars and dreamers. Meira moves, each step feels so heavy. Each hoof is like lead, each one drags along the stone floors. The castle is still unfamiliar to her, and she finds herself pausing at an intersection because she cannot remember which path she is meant to take.
A lantern hangs from her earth stained lips. The taste of metal on her tongue is acrid, it brings her no comfort. Not in the way that blood does when she fights for her life. When she fights for her home, and all that she loves. The silence of the castle in the early morning weighs upon her until it threatens to suffocate her. She wishes to be nothing more than a ghost. She has duties to Delumine, those of which involve patrolling the castle for intruders. The protection of the royal family is of the utmost importance to a soldier. Meira cannot help the feelings that arise in her chest, because his memory is too raw and fresh. The sea can still feel the whisper of his touch. It ebbs and flows with violence until the lantern falls at her hooves with a clang. She dissolves, dissolves until she is pressed against the shadows lining the wall. Meira feels her emotions swell, too great for any amount of soothing. She is useless in so many more ways than one. The air rushes from her lungs, the sting of the sea hits the back of her throat as her emotion pours from her.
The silence continues to permeate the halls, as the sun begins to rise in Delumine. But she can't forget the night's past, nor the memory of him. Meira is frozen against the wall of the castle she is meant to protect. Anger rises in her throat, anger at herself because she does not believe she should be allowed to protect something so important. She can't even protect herself.
A starter for more spicy drama <3
but also some sad .-.
@Danaë
A lantern hangs from her earth stained lips. The taste of metal on her tongue is acrid, it brings her no comfort. Not in the way that blood does when she fights for her life. When she fights for her home, and all that she loves. The silence of the castle in the early morning weighs upon her until it threatens to suffocate her. She wishes to be nothing more than a ghost. She has duties to Delumine, those of which involve patrolling the castle for intruders. The protection of the royal family is of the utmost importance to a soldier. Meira cannot help the feelings that arise in her chest, because his memory is too raw and fresh. The sea can still feel the whisper of his touch. It ebbs and flows with violence until the lantern falls at her hooves with a clang. She dissolves, dissolves until she is pressed against the shadows lining the wall. Meira feels her emotions swell, too great for any amount of soothing. She is useless in so many more ways than one. The air rushes from her lungs, the sting of the sea hits the back of her throat as her emotion pours from her.
The silence continues to permeate the halls, as the sun begins to rise in Delumine. But she can't forget the night's past, nor the memory of him. Meira is frozen against the wall of the castle she is meant to protect. Anger rises in her throat, anger at herself because she does not believe she should be allowed to protect something so important. She can't even protect herself.
A starter for more spicy drama <3
but also some sad .-.
@Danaë
RE: Make Me Feel Alone - Danaë - 11-09-2020
Last night her dreams were fat with the sea. Each wave had curled like a star racing across the darkness caught on the point of her horn. The reeds had sung as they whispered along the curl of her belly and tapped out notes against her hocks. Sand had caught between her teeth like pearls in the eyes of a corpse and shells had climbed into her mane like spiders instead of mollusks.
In the tide she had heard things: whispers of fish in the belly of sharks, gulls caught in the tangled nets of a sunken ship, corals clawed out by the hunger of sea-dragons and water-horses. Each has begged her into the waves, into the darkness, into that gap-jawed space hanging like a noose on her horn. She had listened until she was belly-deep in the dark waves with those shells climbing higher and higher into her mane.
And then she did more than listen. She had responded, mouth deep in the star-curl of a frothing wave, and her voice was not sound but bubbles of a thing caught in the said.
Mine, she said. And every dead thing caught in the dark-waters had rejoiced and rose up with their weed-tongues, and their water-frond lips, into a hallelujah.
Danaë is still thinking of the sea when she wakes before the dawn touches the horizon. The tide is still a dull roar in her ears and a salt-pain in her stomach. Each step sounds like a stone caught in a current as she wanders down the stairway and past her parents room. Behind her the dark spanse of shadows feels like a secret, a memory of the dream slipping away with each hallway she passes.
It feels like a reminder too, when it fades to nothing as she steps into the black darkness before the dawn. The flat of her blade tries to keep it but does nothing more than make a whining sound across the stones towards the garden archway. As she continues the grasses swallow up even that sound as she strays into the rows of roses, and lilacs, and red-as-blood poppies.
The garden swallows up the last echoing roar of the sea in her ears. All she can hear are the buried song-birds, the eaten-by-an-owl mice, and the hens caught by the fox, when she emerges from her father’s garden. But when she spots the unicorn with a lantern in her mouth she can hear the song of the fish in the belly of a shark again. Danaë does not bother wondering where that song came from when she steps into the lantern and says, “hello again,” with the same melancholy poetry of the tide against the shoreline.
@Meira
RE: Make Me Feel Alone - Meira - 11-09-2020
↞ Meira ↠
There are those who say that there is beauty in terrible things. This ghost is one such terrible thing when she arrives to gnaw on what is left of Meira. The dull roar of her voice pierces the silence. It is so soft, so much softer than the night before beside the fire. She stares at the pale woman with the crimson horn. Meira has nowhere to hide, and she can taste the sea on her lips. It tastes like home. The salt of her sorrow could fill a thousand seas, each one she could call home. Her blue chasms stare at the unicorn. They sweep from the tip of her horn to the blade of her tail. Her greeting is too casual considering their first encounter. Meira wants to sink into the sea that drips from her face. She tries to dam the rivulets and drops falling from her chin, but she cannot. It is now that she realizes why this woman promised her that she would not be allowed to live in any corner of the world if she touched her again. The weights in her stomach begin to sink deeper, deeper into the depths of her abyss. An abyss she might never have if she never met him. "So this is what you meant when you promised me I would not be allowed to live in any corner of the world if I touched you again." The empty words fall from her mouth, but each one is cracking under the pressure. The sea wants to escape her lungs, it aches for her to scream. For her to create a sea of anguish that will drown all of Novus.
The thought that she threatened the princess of Delumine is so absurdly funny to her in these moments. The silence extends around them once again. Her guilt begins to gnaw at what little is left of her. The earth-bound sea has no composure left to offer the ghost who stares at her with those eyes. They are absent from the hate that she saw the night before. Meira thinks she understands now, for she too feels pain when others destroy that what she loves most. "Why does it have to be you?" Meira sobs, unable to stop herself. Every inch of her is crawling with regret from each and every action she took the night before. The darkness of her abyss rises up, it spills from her throat until it is nothing but silence again. She knows deep down that this is pathetic. No one will trust her ability to protect Delumine at this rate. Least of all those that she swears to protect. Vulnerable. Raw. Her emotions continue to spill, the kind that has been held behind a dam for far too long. Meira has no words to speak, she has no place to speak. She knows this without an inkling of doubt.
Dawn begins to creep slowly across their flesh. It is warm, but it is not the comfort of the sea. Instead, her flesh begins to ache as it creeps across her frame. Her frame begins to burn, salt on her fresh wounds. It pours and pours into her wounds until her lids grow dry. They ache as she rebuilds the dam before her ghost. She has never felt so weak before. Meira wants to speak, but she has no words to offer. Nothing that will mend the actions of last night, nor this bright and early morning. Her eyes sting, her lungs burn and writhe like the saplings in the fire. "Did you find the blood to sate the hunger of your forest?" The words come out in a croak, a vain attempt to try and ignore the fact that she has lost control of her emotions. I can't breathe, the sea whispers to her. So she begins to drown in the silence, and her abyss as she waits for judgment from this ghost.
<3
@Danaë
The thought that she threatened the princess of Delumine is so absurdly funny to her in these moments. The silence extends around them once again. Her guilt begins to gnaw at what little is left of her. The earth-bound sea has no composure left to offer the ghost who stares at her with those eyes. They are absent from the hate that she saw the night before. Meira thinks she understands now, for she too feels pain when others destroy that what she loves most. "Why does it have to be you?" Meira sobs, unable to stop herself. Every inch of her is crawling with regret from each and every action she took the night before. The darkness of her abyss rises up, it spills from her throat until it is nothing but silence again. She knows deep down that this is pathetic. No one will trust her ability to protect Delumine at this rate. Least of all those that she swears to protect. Vulnerable. Raw. Her emotions continue to spill, the kind that has been held behind a dam for far too long. Meira has no words to speak, she has no place to speak. She knows this without an inkling of doubt.
Dawn begins to creep slowly across their flesh. It is warm, but it is not the comfort of the sea. Instead, her flesh begins to ache as it creeps across her frame. Her frame begins to burn, salt on her fresh wounds. It pours and pours into her wounds until her lids grow dry. They ache as she rebuilds the dam before her ghost. She has never felt so weak before. Meira wants to speak, but she has no words to offer. Nothing that will mend the actions of last night, nor this bright and early morning. Her eyes sting, her lungs burn and writhe like the saplings in the fire. "Did you find the blood to sate the hunger of your forest?" The words come out in a croak, a vain attempt to try and ignore the fact that she has lost control of her emotions. I can't breathe, the sea whispers to her. So she begins to drown in the silence, and her abyss as she waits for judgment from this ghost.
<3
@Danaë
RE: Make Me Feel Alone - Danaë - 11-11-2020
On a night, one with a scythe moon instead of a full one, she had listened to the death-dreams of an owl who lost his wings. His dreams (although they seem to her more like prayers now) had been heavy with the taste of starlight and moonlight whittled down to fit inside the belly of a firefly. They had too, as she wandered through his thoughts, the memory of fox teeth. He recalled the feel of them, the agony of the tongue between them as it lapped at his blood like a hound a bowl, when he fell like a stone from the tree that collapsed beneath him.
She recalls the feel of death as it ran through his bones and the way his eyes felt like a pond of ice caught above his beak as he stared, for the very last time, at the moon. And she remembers too, now that she thinks about it, how his eyes had looked when daisies had pushed the ice out.
When the mare’s face dips into sorrow she can see the wanting of ice in her mortal eyes. What others might see as sorrow she knows as the feel of teeth, and a lapping tongue, and a waterfall of feathers instead of tears. And she knows, with a unicorn’s knowing, that the mare would be better off with whittled down starlight and moonlight in her belly instead of fruit, and roots, and slivers of iron from the lantern between her teeth.
A daisy, strange and red and beautiful, blooms from pathway at the mare’s hooves (where only an inch of ruined dirt lingers) like an offering-- an offering to push all the ice out.
“If you must ask me what I meant you have not yet met Isolt.” She smiles, but there is more warning than kindness in the look. The melancholy sound of her voice is a sonnet to the sad sea on which she still aches to bury a seed brighter than a pearl. When she blinks, slipping into that dark recall of her dream sea, it is to hide the look of pity for what the mare will discover when she meets the wrath of her beloved sister.
When. Not if. Isolt is always a when.
When will the sun eat the moon? When will the worms eat the buried corpse? When will the gods discover the same feel of teeth that the owl had? When? When? When?
The dawn, unlike how it normally feels, seems like a thing too small for her attention in the pure desolation of this mortal. The daisy offering billows in the wind of her soft and fragile movement as she closes the distance between them. “It must be agony,” she whispers as she lifts her check towards the mare’s cheek in the same greeting she always gives her sister, “to feel sorrow instead of hunger. How do you stand it?”
And for the first time she thinks, as only a thing immortal made in the shape of a holy and profane god can think, how painful it must be to be mortal.
@Meira
RE: Make Me Feel Alone - Meira - 12-23-2020
↞ Meira ↠
This ghost does not come in the shape of a wolf with gnashing teeth, instead, she comes with a dripping maw sated from the previous night's kill. The hunger has gone to sleep, and for now, the ghost is soft. Soft in only a way that the dead can be. In the day she can see now, much clearer that the princess is made of marble and blood. There is no hunger, nor war in her eyes this early morning that is flooded by a sea of shame. The wolf bears her teeth in a makeshift smile, though she may as well be lapping the memories that pour like blood through her veins. Meira almost misses the flower that blooms on the path at her feet. It is so simple, so beautiful. The offering does not go unnoticed by her, as her final few tears fall upon the petals that sprawl into the early morning light.
Her thorns twitch toward the princess. There is a smile that does not meet her eyes. It is not a kindness, but a warning. There are many who might argue that a warning is a form of kindness, Meira didn't believe that was true. Not yet. Every thrum of her heart was a warning. The way he lingers on her skin is a warning, and none of these are kind.
"No, I have not. I am not native to Delumine. Solterran by blood, and once formerly bound to Denocte. I am certain by how you say I have not yet met Isolt.. it means that I will inevitably meet them." Meira answers her, the sorrow is beginning to fade from the words that fall from her lips.
Soft. Again she is soft as she sweeps the pale flesh of her cheek against the earthen tones of Meira's face. It is a whisper, far too gentle for prying ears. When she speaks, Meira feels like she is drowning. For a moment she leans toward the unicorn who has no reason to show her any kindness. Yet, she has proven beyond a doubt that she is far better than Meira will ever be.
She is a petty, spoiled thing. The kind of thing that one leaves to rot in an alleyway until it claws its way back out and devours all who have wronged it.
"The two are not opposites. First comes the waves of sorrow, and then comes the hunger with which I devour all who have sunk their teeth into me. I stand it because I must. I live with it, or I die." For the first time her eyes soften as she pulls away from the princess slightly. The one she is meant to protect, and she feels the guilt tighten itself around her throat. "How is it, that someone so hungry and full of war can show such kindness to the undeserving? How do I begin to make up for what I have done to you?" Meira asks the ghost as she waits for a vengeful blow to come.
So sorry for the wait on this. Thank you for being patient <3
@Danaë
Her thorns twitch toward the princess. There is a smile that does not meet her eyes. It is not a kindness, but a warning. There are many who might argue that a warning is a form of kindness, Meira didn't believe that was true. Not yet. Every thrum of her heart was a warning. The way he lingers on her skin is a warning, and none of these are kind.
"No, I have not. I am not native to Delumine. Solterran by blood, and once formerly bound to Denocte. I am certain by how you say I have not yet met Isolt.. it means that I will inevitably meet them." Meira answers her, the sorrow is beginning to fade from the words that fall from her lips.
Soft. Again she is soft as she sweeps the pale flesh of her cheek against the earthen tones of Meira's face. It is a whisper, far too gentle for prying ears. When she speaks, Meira feels like she is drowning. For a moment she leans toward the unicorn who has no reason to show her any kindness. Yet, she has proven beyond a doubt that she is far better than Meira will ever be.
She is a petty, spoiled thing. The kind of thing that one leaves to rot in an alleyway until it claws its way back out and devours all who have wronged it.
"The two are not opposites. First comes the waves of sorrow, and then comes the hunger with which I devour all who have sunk their teeth into me. I stand it because I must. I live with it, or I die." For the first time her eyes soften as she pulls away from the princess slightly. The one she is meant to protect, and she feels the guilt tighten itself around her throat. "How is it, that someone so hungry and full of war can show such kindness to the undeserving? How do I begin to make up for what I have done to you?" Meira asks the ghost as she waits for a vengeful blow to come.
So sorry for the wait on this. Thank you for being patient <3
@Danaë
RE: Make Me Feel Alone - Danaë - 12-27-2020
“Dawn”, the old man had told her once, “always brings with it a lesson.” He had tossed the phrase into the throat of one of his stories like a roar pretending to be a whisper. And she remembers now, as the mare leans into her touch, how she had waited with the fire ringing a halo around her horn to discover what the dawn would bring her that day.
She can see an echo of the old man in this mortal, a soldier who has enough emotions to fuel an eon of wars (wars she would watch begin and end from the altar of her temple). It lingers below the eye, the eyes mother always told her watch, like a shadow of the moon lingering behind a cloud. Danae wonders if her horn could pluck that out too like a ripe apple hanging from her father’s orchards.
She wonders if the mare would let her try.
“Who has sunk their teeth into you?” A flash of that rend, and ruin, of the night before snaps across her eyes like a violent storm. She remembers how that story, the one that started with a throat of dawn, had been full of dragons, and thunderbirds, and lions that flared like the sun in the dark middle of space. In her halo of fireflight she had felt like the belly of the story, the thing into which every creature caught in words must go. “Tell me and I will bring them to you with veins full of pollen and a mouth of daisies instead of teeth.” Her shoulder feels strong as stone, strong as that fire halo, when the mare’s tears start to dry.
Her smile has in it that echo of rend and ruin when she too pulls away from the dawn-gilded embrace. “I was made to carry both and I did not have to learn it as a born thing does.” The brightness flashes across her eyes again, and again, until she blinks it away and turns her gaze to the flower bowing backward at her shadow. “You have done nothing to me.” Danaë does not point out that it would take more than a mortal’s threat to bring her close enough to the death in her own stomach that it might make her discover fear. It seems like a cruelty and her throat is still echoing with the dawn.
Their shoulders brush again as Danaë shifts to look back at her castle where her sister and mother still slumber. “Did you know,” her smile dances with the secret of a true unicorn’s knowing, “there is more to the world than living or dying?” And this, as she tosses her horn into the halo of the dawn instead of one of fire, does not feel like a cruelty at all.
This feels, as more flowers tickle their hocks when they rise from the pathway mortar, like a gift.
@Meira