i raised myself, my legs were weak
i prayed my mind be good to me
i prayed my mind be good to me
S
omething like that,” Grey remarked idly, “there’s a lot to get lost in, in this library.” And in truth, the great building, made of trees and magic, was perhaps the most grand and mystical thing he had ever seen. The unicorn pushes away memories of gold skin and kinship and try as he might cannot push away thoughts of magic, as it clings to his skin stubbornly and without reprieve.The snow had no effect on Grey. It could settle upon his skin and send cold deep into his bones, but was it not already there, nesting in his marrow? Had it not already dusted its fingers over him? The snow had been the thing that had nearly taken his life, leaving its mark upon him forevermore regardless of Amaranthus’ magic.
Oh, it had affected him once.
“I would agree. All those fortunate enough to be bundled up in their homes by their fires and yet here we are,” it was a sting, to say those words. It was a knife to his heart that twisted and twisted and twisted Once, Grey had had a home and a fire and a family, to keep him warm on the darkest and coldest of days. Once, but that was no longer and would never be again. He was destined to this loneliness that has gnawed open a hole inside him.
The unicorn didn’t smile. There was nothing in him that remembered how.
His white white eyes paused their search of the spines of books, resting on the gilded man. And the once-soldier inside Grey thought that their curiosities were similar beasts, even if for different reasons. The once-soldier in Grey is curious and wary because snakes in the grass are often exactly as they appear. He couldn’t say the reason for this man’s own. “I suppose that I was hoping some book here would give me some insight into this place I now rest my head at night.”
He does not rest his head at night. There was no rest for the weary, tired and aching. He walked the streets and drowned himself in the silence and the dark. Something inside him, some part that Grey had tried so hard to forget, was still searching. A part of him that Amaranthus had awakened and sent out into the world on a mission. He still had not found the thing that his god-lover had told him he would find.
@Toulouse | "speaks" | notes: a sad boi and a grump boi
