and bury it before it buries me
For someone who longs for companionship, it is surprising how often she finds herself here: left to her own thoughts.
She cannot pretend that she has not thought of him.
She cannot lie, even to herself, and say that he has not permeated her thoughts—her dreams turning to darkness the way the shadows waiver and they curl around every corner. He had given her a night to forget, to dance, to live, and to breathe. He had looked to her with darkness and danger in his eyes as she halted his name on his breath. He told her he would come, but Elena has yet to find him. This mysterious man of shadows and violence.
So, of course, she thinks of him.
Of course she dreams of him.
She thinks of the strangeness of him, the intimidating beauty, the darkness that seems to slip so closely to the surface. She thinks of the way he had looked to her, his voice low, his smile ominous, the way his body was built for fighting, for ferocity. It should scare her more than it does. The violence in him, the need—but it doesn’t. Instead, her pulse races and her spine shivers.
There is a part of her, bruised and battered and scarred that had expected him not come, to have had his fill, to have stolen embers from her fire and moved on.
It’s what life has taught her, after all.
This was entirely the same.
This was entirely different.
Life is so cruel to cause Elena to think of him when she is entirely unaware of the shadows that creep behind her like clouds to try to block out the sun. She has always been drawn to the dark ones—something within her dove heart endlessly fascinated with the shadows and the poison. She was made for the sunshine, for the summer and the spring, and yet she always finds herself in the shadows, pulled into the toxic winter that both traps and entices her. She cannot speak to what inside of her is so drawn to it, what part of her reaches for the knife that she knows will only draw blood, only that she does and thus it is not surprising to her that she is here now, that she looks at him with nothing but bright eyes as the sunshine illuminates her face. She doesn’t show such fears now as he appears to her, such trembling insecurities, but neither does she offer such a warm smile as she did at the festival. “Would you catch me?” She asks him, a challenge that she feels cut her tongue as she speaks it.
Glacial eyes see the hunger within his own and there is that part of her, that foolish, foolish part of her that aches to fill it. She welcomes his shadows, taking it as fleeting touches, but she shudders with the cold they bring to her, longing for her sunlight. As if he has read her thoughts, they recede and she is bathed once more, her skin warmed as if she had never been shrouded in darkness to begin with.
She supposes that ghosts find them all eventually. For her, they had found her young—torn at her heart until it was unrecognizable. They had warped her reality, ripped away her defenses and shaped her into something different, something new. It is difficult to not think about what she would have become had they had not found her. It is difficult to think of the life that she might have led had she not run across the stallion of shadows and bone that day in the meadow, if she had not followed Hades down, swelling the pomegranate seeds and coming back for more. Her ghosts simmer on the surface, bruising her blue eyes, and she is unable to keep herself from looking at him with her defenses stripped away, vulnerable before his declaration. “I’m glad you did,” she says to him.
‘But I should remain nameless to you.’ He is begging for her desire. Elena loves nothing more than masks and mystery, its has been proven by her history, the ghosts that lurk now in the backdrop against the sun kissed ocean. ‘The mystery has to fade at some point,’ Lilli’s words of warning echo in her ears, and Elena banishes the thought, but she recognizes the trill at the end of her spine to not be over her own, but the caution of her cousin.
She can feel her now, Lilli, pulling her back as Elena walks towards him with the confidence that only comes from diving into a darkened pool where she doesn't know what lay at the bottom of it. Each steps drags her closer to the lion that waits with baited breath and ready jaws. “And what, Denocte, do I need to do to get you to tell me?”
She cannot pretend that she has not thought of him.
She cannot lie, even to herself, and say that he has not permeated her thoughts—her dreams turning to darkness the way the shadows waiver and they curl around every corner. He had given her a night to forget, to dance, to live, and to breathe. He had looked to her with darkness and danger in his eyes as she halted his name on his breath. He told her he would come, but Elena has yet to find him. This mysterious man of shadows and violence.
So, of course, she thinks of him.
Of course she dreams of him.
She thinks of the strangeness of him, the intimidating beauty, the darkness that seems to slip so closely to the surface. She thinks of the way he had looked to her, his voice low, his smile ominous, the way his body was built for fighting, for ferocity. It should scare her more than it does. The violence in him, the need—but it doesn’t. Instead, her pulse races and her spine shivers.
There is a part of her, bruised and battered and scarred that had expected him not come, to have had his fill, to have stolen embers from her fire and moved on.
It’s what life has taught her, after all.
This was entirely the same.
This was entirely different.
Life is so cruel to cause Elena to think of him when she is entirely unaware of the shadows that creep behind her like clouds to try to block out the sun. She has always been drawn to the dark ones—something within her dove heart endlessly fascinated with the shadows and the poison. She was made for the sunshine, for the summer and the spring, and yet she always finds herself in the shadows, pulled into the toxic winter that both traps and entices her. She cannot speak to what inside of her is so drawn to it, what part of her reaches for the knife that she knows will only draw blood, only that she does and thus it is not surprising to her that she is here now, that she looks at him with nothing but bright eyes as the sunshine illuminates her face. She doesn’t show such fears now as he appears to her, such trembling insecurities, but neither does she offer such a warm smile as she did at the festival. “Would you catch me?” She asks him, a challenge that she feels cut her tongue as she speaks it.
Glacial eyes see the hunger within his own and there is that part of her, that foolish, foolish part of her that aches to fill it. She welcomes his shadows, taking it as fleeting touches, but she shudders with the cold they bring to her, longing for her sunlight. As if he has read her thoughts, they recede and she is bathed once more, her skin warmed as if she had never been shrouded in darkness to begin with.
She supposes that ghosts find them all eventually. For her, they had found her young—torn at her heart until it was unrecognizable. They had warped her reality, ripped away her defenses and shaped her into something different, something new. It is difficult to not think about what she would have become had they had not found her. It is difficult to think of the life that she might have led had she not run across the stallion of shadows and bone that day in the meadow, if she had not followed Hades down, swelling the pomegranate seeds and coming back for more. Her ghosts simmer on the surface, bruising her blue eyes, and she is unable to keep herself from looking at him with her defenses stripped away, vulnerable before his declaration. “I’m glad you did,” she says to him.
‘But I should remain nameless to you.’ He is begging for her desire. Elena loves nothing more than masks and mystery, its has been proven by her history, the ghosts that lurk now in the backdrop against the sun kissed ocean. ‘The mystery has to fade at some point,’ Lilli’s words of warning echo in her ears, and Elena banishes the thought, but she recognizes the trill at the end of her spine to not be over her own, but the caution of her cousin.
She can feel her now, Lilli, pulling her back as Elena walks towards him with the confidence that only comes from diving into a darkened pool where she doesn't know what lay at the bottom of it. Each steps drags her closer to the lion that waits with baited breath and ready jaws. “And what, Denocte, do I need to do to get you to tell me?”
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Tenebrae
![[Image: ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db...0iFb4PvyXE]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/8026a53b-dc57-41ab-b574-9f8a8fe57ce4/ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db0780.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzgwMjZhNTNiLWRjNTctNDFhYi1iNTc0LTlmOGE4ZmU1N2NlNFwvZGR2b3R3ZS01OTMwMmJhNi02YTgxLTQ3YmYtOTg0Ni0zMGM1YTVkYjA3ODAucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.ujCJH7FAbsQhfZlQniMmEd_vw-VmvaTDn0iFb4PvyXE)
let's light this house on fire
we'll dance in the warmth of its blaze
pixel made by the amazing star
