and bury it before it buries me
She remembers her first night in Murmuring Rivers after Marcelo brought her there, having found her a lonely, sad orphan child, he had taken his younger cousin. She remembers looking at the sky, thinking how her parents were gone and how there had been no new stars in the sky to mark the passing of her happy little family, no dancing soul-lights twinkling up above to show they’d made it safely into the next world. And she remembers how angry she had felt.
“I think we could both use some quiet,” she has said and laughed with Lilli in Hyaline. “We have had far too many complications, I think it would be nice, to live a life, without anymore of them.” What would Lilli be thinking of her foolish cousin now? Elena, for once, is glad that Lilli is not here to see her spiral downwards once more so soon after finding her wings again.
She tucks away the sadness, folding it small and hiding it deep.
This was not the time to let it consume her. This was not the time to be consumed by it.
Elena is not the kind to shy away from shadows.
She has been drawn there from birth. She has always found herself staring too long into them, something in her dove-heart fluttering and racing at the possibilities. Perhaps it this that kept her clutching to a love that threatened to shred her. Perhaps it is this that kept her seated in the middle of the inferno, the roar of it in her ears and in her heart.
Her eyes search the hard angles of his face. She knows then, she knows, that there is darkness in him—something that moves beneath the surface. She does not think that he does not carry sin upon his shoulders, that he has not delved into darkness. He was darkness.
And she wishes—oh, but for a moment—that she could find someone light.
Someone pure and good who brought softness to her world.
It would be simple and beautiful but oh—
It would not be him.
There is something beautiful that blossoms between them, in the light and the dark, but something dangerous. She recognizes him for the shadow he is, recognizes the knife to her throat—the blade she holds so willingly. She invites it into her chest, pulling the poisoned air into her lungs and letting it simmer. There is part of her that tells herself that this time it will be different.
‘I would catch you.’ The only thing that she needed to hear from him in this moment. His voice is dark like oak and bourbon. Her eyes of blue cannot help but follow his own down the cliffside and to the end of it, far below them where only the bleakness of death would await them with open arms and a wicked smile. “Better than to perish alone,” she finally whispers to him, finding his gaze and holding onto it. A soft exhale. She is Juliet constantly throwing herself all the blade for all the men who disguise themselves as her Romeo.
It is only when the breeze reaches her that she turns that golden, sun kissed face to meet his own once more, blue eyes wild with wind, like tiny hurricanes blowing. He lays a tightrope for himself to walk, but Elena finds her unsteady feet joining him, she tests her balance all because he has said he would catch her. The sunflower child always so eager to trust them and what they say.
Those December eyes shine out from beneath the shadows that try to warp and steal the sunshine from her skin. “Maybe,” she says with a shrug. “But you’d probably haunt me forever anyway.” Another ghost, that is what he is, just another ghost. “You’re here now though and I don't think you are going anywhere.” She says, so confident in her own ability to invite the darkness in and hold it there like a child holding onto a honey bee in clenched hands after they’ve already been stung. Somewhere there are red flags going up in the back of Elena's mind, but she either doesn't see them or doesn't mind.
Elena has no defense against someone like him.
He reaches out to touch her, but the space remains and Elena wants to ask him why. Why he does not reach out as so many had done before. The gentle caress of Aerwir, the way Underworld’s shoulder had dug into her own, Tunnel’s possessive way of dragging his teeth along her spine. It feels almost foreign as no touch lands upon her skin. She almost hates it. She forces herself closer, tilting that head upwards to look at him. “That doesn't mean you are without a name,” she says again. Bold. Brazen.
She pulls away then, like the sun rising in the East through the darkness of night. “If your name is to remain a mystery, then tell me something else about you,” she says, and she looks so childish in this moment, like that little girl in Paraiso asking her godfather for just one more story.
“Tell me a secret, Denocte.”
“I think we could both use some quiet,” she has said and laughed with Lilli in Hyaline. “We have had far too many complications, I think it would be nice, to live a life, without anymore of them.” What would Lilli be thinking of her foolish cousin now? Elena, for once, is glad that Lilli is not here to see her spiral downwards once more so soon after finding her wings again.
She tucks away the sadness, folding it small and hiding it deep.
This was not the time to let it consume her. This was not the time to be consumed by it.
Elena is not the kind to shy away from shadows.
She has been drawn there from birth. She has always found herself staring too long into them, something in her dove-heart fluttering and racing at the possibilities. Perhaps it this that kept her clutching to a love that threatened to shred her. Perhaps it is this that kept her seated in the middle of the inferno, the roar of it in her ears and in her heart.
Her eyes search the hard angles of his face. She knows then, she knows, that there is darkness in him—something that moves beneath the surface. She does not think that he does not carry sin upon his shoulders, that he has not delved into darkness. He was darkness.
And she wishes—oh, but for a moment—that she could find someone light.
Someone pure and good who brought softness to her world.
It would be simple and beautiful but oh—
It would not be him.
There is something beautiful that blossoms between them, in the light and the dark, but something dangerous. She recognizes him for the shadow he is, recognizes the knife to her throat—the blade she holds so willingly. She invites it into her chest, pulling the poisoned air into her lungs and letting it simmer. There is part of her that tells herself that this time it will be different.
‘I would catch you.’ The only thing that she needed to hear from him in this moment. His voice is dark like oak and bourbon. Her eyes of blue cannot help but follow his own down the cliffside and to the end of it, far below them where only the bleakness of death would await them with open arms and a wicked smile. “Better than to perish alone,” she finally whispers to him, finding his gaze and holding onto it. A soft exhale. She is Juliet constantly throwing herself all the blade for all the men who disguise themselves as her Romeo.
It is only when the breeze reaches her that she turns that golden, sun kissed face to meet his own once more, blue eyes wild with wind, like tiny hurricanes blowing. He lays a tightrope for himself to walk, but Elena finds her unsteady feet joining him, she tests her balance all because he has said he would catch her. The sunflower child always so eager to trust them and what they say.
Those December eyes shine out from beneath the shadows that try to warp and steal the sunshine from her skin. “Maybe,” she says with a shrug. “But you’d probably haunt me forever anyway.” Another ghost, that is what he is, just another ghost. “You’re here now though and I don't think you are going anywhere.” She says, so confident in her own ability to invite the darkness in and hold it there like a child holding onto a honey bee in clenched hands after they’ve already been stung. Somewhere there are red flags going up in the back of Elena's mind, but she either doesn't see them or doesn't mind.
Elena has no defense against someone like him.
He reaches out to touch her, but the space remains and Elena wants to ask him why. Why he does not reach out as so many had done before. The gentle caress of Aerwir, the way Underworld’s shoulder had dug into her own, Tunnel’s possessive way of dragging his teeth along her spine. It feels almost foreign as no touch lands upon her skin. She almost hates it. She forces herself closer, tilting that head upwards to look at him. “That doesn't mean you are without a name,” she says again. Bold. Brazen.
She pulls away then, like the sun rising in the East through the darkness of night. “If your name is to remain a mystery, then tell me something else about you,” she says, and she looks so childish in this moment, like that little girl in Paraiso asking her godfather for just one more story.
“Tell me a secret, Denocte.”
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
