✩ v i r u n ✩
I thought I was flying
but maybe I'm dying tonight
She is not alone for long.
A voice comes, distinctly male – perhaps a bit nervous, but far from unkind. “W-“ She jerks, head whipping to stare at the source of the first voice; then a second comes, and, for a moment, she looks back and forth in their relative directions, unseeing eyes unfocused and frantic. Without her blindfold, her condition is obvious – they are so pale as to be colorless and completely unmoving. She straightens, then, and swallows hard, looking towards the ground. Your eyes are frightening, Virun. Do you really want them to see them? No. No she doesn’t. Their words are kind, and the woman – Cyrene, a healer – offers to help her, to look at her broken wing. Broken. The thought of it makes her chest clench; even without Celes, she can navigate with some relative ease in the air, where she can feel everything. Without her wings, she is stationary, stuck, trapped, entrenched within her own head and her own body, a prisoner. Fixing her wing must be her priority, but, even though Ein said that she would find help here, she doesn’t know anything about this new world, or this Dusk Court, or these…people. Cyrene. Asterion. “I…thank you.” Her voice is even more quiet than she is accustomed to, more uncertain; she isn’t aware of how tall she is, really, but, if she were, she might think it strange that someone so imposing would sound so anxious. Her head throbs painfully, and she doesn’t know who they are, or where she is, and even though their voices sound kind, while living in a world that is almost entirely composed of noise, Virun has learned that she can’t trust anything. Not without her friends. Not without Celes.
“Ah-stair-eon. Psy-reen,” Her accent stumbles clumsily over their foreign names, and she flinches, slightly. These are not the words that she is accustomed to – their pronunciations are all wrong, the accents different, though comprehensible. It begins to sink in that she’s in a completely new world, and she has to force down a sudden, painful lump in her throat. It stings like salt. “I am…Virun. Approach me, please…” You sound so pitiful, Virun. Shut up, shut up, shut up- Didn’t you want to be on your own? Irrelevant. She is injured, but she can’t really tell where anymore; pain has become an incomprehensible throbbing in the blackness. Her wings shift back into place at her sides, and, in the sudden absence of their presence, her limber form is visible; her stomach turns inward awkwardly, and her ribs jut out at her sides. She’s no longer aware of the hunger, though. It has become so omnipresent as to be unnoticeable. “…but don’t do it quietly. I need to hear you.” They’re both strangers, and she doesn’t know anything about them – for all she knows, they could want to hurt her. Besides, if she isn’t careful, any sudden movements could send her careening into them, which could be dangerous or humiliating depending on the circumstances, and Virun would rather avoid either. You’re too flighty, Virun. People expect trust, you know, especially when they offer you aid. She doesn’t move an inch.
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tags | @asterion @cyrene
notes | *oh my goodness,* this is so late - I'm so sorry. x.x
I thought I was flying
but maybe I'm dying tonight
She is not alone for long.
A voice comes, distinctly male – perhaps a bit nervous, but far from unkind. “W-“ She jerks, head whipping to stare at the source of the first voice; then a second comes, and, for a moment, she looks back and forth in their relative directions, unseeing eyes unfocused and frantic. Without her blindfold, her condition is obvious – they are so pale as to be colorless and completely unmoving. She straightens, then, and swallows hard, looking towards the ground. Your eyes are frightening, Virun. Do you really want them to see them? No. No she doesn’t. Their words are kind, and the woman – Cyrene, a healer – offers to help her, to look at her broken wing. Broken. The thought of it makes her chest clench; even without Celes, she can navigate with some relative ease in the air, where she can feel everything. Without her wings, she is stationary, stuck, trapped, entrenched within her own head and her own body, a prisoner. Fixing her wing must be her priority, but, even though Ein said that she would find help here, she doesn’t know anything about this new world, or this Dusk Court, or these…people. Cyrene. Asterion. “I…thank you.” Her voice is even more quiet than she is accustomed to, more uncertain; she isn’t aware of how tall she is, really, but, if she were, she might think it strange that someone so imposing would sound so anxious. Her head throbs painfully, and she doesn’t know who they are, or where she is, and even though their voices sound kind, while living in a world that is almost entirely composed of noise, Virun has learned that she can’t trust anything. Not without her friends. Not without Celes.
“Ah-stair-eon. Psy-reen,” Her accent stumbles clumsily over their foreign names, and she flinches, slightly. These are not the words that she is accustomed to – their pronunciations are all wrong, the accents different, though comprehensible. It begins to sink in that she’s in a completely new world, and she has to force down a sudden, painful lump in her throat. It stings like salt. “I am…Virun. Approach me, please…” You sound so pitiful, Virun. Shut up, shut up, shut up- Didn’t you want to be on your own? Irrelevant. She is injured, but she can’t really tell where anymore; pain has become an incomprehensible throbbing in the blackness. Her wings shift back into place at her sides, and, in the sudden absence of their presence, her limber form is visible; her stomach turns inward awkwardly, and her ribs jut out at her sides. She’s no longer aware of the hunger, though. It has become so omnipresent as to be unnoticeable. “…but don’t do it quietly. I need to hear you.” They’re both strangers, and she doesn’t know anything about them – for all she knows, they could want to hurt her. Besides, if she isn’t careful, any sudden movements could send her careening into them, which could be dangerous or humiliating depending on the circumstances, and Virun would rather avoid either. You’re too flighty, Virun. People expect trust, you know, especially when they offer you aid. She doesn’t move an inch.
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tags | @asterion @cyrene
notes | *oh my goodness,* this is so late - I'm so sorry. x.x
