and bury it before it buries me
A better setting would have been a rooftop. With Elena bathing and Tenebrae looking upon her from the streets. (The man who should be her Uriah waits for her on a starry mountain with a glowing pendant around his neck.) He has taken her, he would so flatly refuse if she told him it was so. A monk would not take a woman, but ask Elena and she would say he took her all the same. Maybe if Elena knew how this would have played out today, she would have avoided those rooftops all together. (The mountains were so much safer.)
She wants to let it go, to let all of it go, to not feel the way she feels. Why did he have to stir her so easily, so quickly, like simmering coals just waiting for his touch to stoke them back to glaring life? There is a feeling in chest that she does not want to submit to. She can see with glacier eyes his pain, the injury that presses against him, and she pretends that she does not feel the ache of sympathy rattling her body at the sight of him. She has felt this before, it is why she had healed the demon even when the first move he made after was to destroy her.
He has to.
“I don’t believe you,” Her voice is soft, weary, but she still lets her words strike him like a stone. He doesn't have to rip himself open, Elena is already peeling back the mask that covers his face. The masquerade is over, she decides as her own falls to the floor. But he closes his eyes, and she feels her anger continue to flare, why would he so refuse to look at the blatant truth before him? Even when it stands exposed and as bright as lightning across a ink black sky. It is this and this alone that stands as the only thing that could ever make Elena believe that the Denocte man could be weak. He could return to the hospital after battle, a skeleton, bruised, bloodied, unable to stand, to breathe, and she would not think him as weak as she does now.
She studies him with eyes that are just a little too sharp as he speaks. “You have told me you are a monk already,” she retorts. Why does he speak this information she knows? And then he is looking upon her once more and this is the only thing that can keep her steady and halted in this spot so close before him.
He kept too many secrets, she can see it on him now, even the cloak of shadows cannot hide that which glows off him like moonlight. Her eyes settle stonily upon him. “Without fail,” she promises. The word sits like poison in her belly. She will no doubt come to regret it later. She always does. Without fail.
He flays her, and she lets him.
She can’t help herself.
No one can.
To her sea he went.
To her beautiful, beautiful sea.
If she fell—
Did he promise to catch her too?
She feels like she can barely breathe, she is being smothered by her own jealousy. It is followed by her heartbeat thundering loudly in her ears. For a moment, stretched further than the oceans, she withers beneath the blade that is his confession of just what had happened when he went to the sea. She has never felt jealousy in her heart, and she isn't sure what to do with it now. She wants to set it free as it ravages her inside and rattles the walls of chest. She feels herself breaking (splintering) right into her very core.
The weight of him, of his words, the gravity of it is crushing her, turning glass to dust. And still she clings to those words, because they are his, even as they keep carving away at her. Still, jealousy is such a poisonous thing and she can feel her stomach clenching like a fist at the thought of Tenebrae with someone else. It is then she knows that this is temporary, it is fleeting. And it pushes into her heart like the force of an avalanche.
“You said you pray for easy every day,” she says to him then as she stands close. And there is fire that is creeping back into her voice and those eyes she fights so hard to keep flat and emotionless are like white hot flames of blue. So she closes her eyes, glacial blues sliding underneath long, dark lashes. “Well, here you go. I will make it easy for you now,” she says, those eyes staying closed because she thinks she can only say it if she does not see his face because impossibly, she is keeping the unravelling pieces of her soul stitched tight. But she thinks she may just come apart if she opens her eyes now. “Don’t come back to Terrastella, Tenebrae.” She tenses suddenly and pulls away from him but she is certain she has left her heart behind because all she can feel in her chest is a cold, empty ache. But there is a fire on her lips where his name had just been.
She leaves to walk back to the hospital, leaving Tenebrae behind, to make his own way from her home. It is only when she is alone the sun moves across the sky to come streaming in through the windows, illuminating that golden coat of hers that she realizes what she has said: Do not come back to Terrastella. It was not don’t come back to me. Because maybe, through the jealousy and the hurt, buried there (deep, deep, deep) where she will not see, where he will not see, she doesn't want this to have been the last time.
If Tenebrae was weak, oh, then so was she.
She wants to let it go, to let all of it go, to not feel the way she feels. Why did he have to stir her so easily, so quickly, like simmering coals just waiting for his touch to stoke them back to glaring life? There is a feeling in chest that she does not want to submit to. She can see with glacier eyes his pain, the injury that presses against him, and she pretends that she does not feel the ache of sympathy rattling her body at the sight of him. She has felt this before, it is why she had healed the demon even when the first move he made after was to destroy her.
He has to.
“I don’t believe you,” Her voice is soft, weary, but she still lets her words strike him like a stone. He doesn't have to rip himself open, Elena is already peeling back the mask that covers his face. The masquerade is over, she decides as her own falls to the floor. But he closes his eyes, and she feels her anger continue to flare, why would he so refuse to look at the blatant truth before him? Even when it stands exposed and as bright as lightning across a ink black sky. It is this and this alone that stands as the only thing that could ever make Elena believe that the Denocte man could be weak. He could return to the hospital after battle, a skeleton, bruised, bloodied, unable to stand, to breathe, and she would not think him as weak as she does now.
She studies him with eyes that are just a little too sharp as he speaks. “You have told me you are a monk already,” she retorts. Why does he speak this information she knows? And then he is looking upon her once more and this is the only thing that can keep her steady and halted in this spot so close before him.
He kept too many secrets, she can see it on him now, even the cloak of shadows cannot hide that which glows off him like moonlight. Her eyes settle stonily upon him. “Without fail,” she promises. The word sits like poison in her belly. She will no doubt come to regret it later. She always does. Without fail.
He flays her, and she lets him.
She can’t help herself.
No one can.
To her sea he went.
To her beautiful, beautiful sea.
If she fell—
Did he promise to catch her too?
She feels like she can barely breathe, she is being smothered by her own jealousy. It is followed by her heartbeat thundering loudly in her ears. For a moment, stretched further than the oceans, she withers beneath the blade that is his confession of just what had happened when he went to the sea. She has never felt jealousy in her heart, and she isn't sure what to do with it now. She wants to set it free as it ravages her inside and rattles the walls of chest. She feels herself breaking (splintering) right into her very core.
The weight of him, of his words, the gravity of it is crushing her, turning glass to dust. And still she clings to those words, because they are his, even as they keep carving away at her. Still, jealousy is such a poisonous thing and she can feel her stomach clenching like a fist at the thought of Tenebrae with someone else. It is then she knows that this is temporary, it is fleeting. And it pushes into her heart like the force of an avalanche.
“You said you pray for easy every day,” she says to him then as she stands close. And there is fire that is creeping back into her voice and those eyes she fights so hard to keep flat and emotionless are like white hot flames of blue. So she closes her eyes, glacial blues sliding underneath long, dark lashes. “Well, here you go. I will make it easy for you now,” she says, those eyes staying closed because she thinks she can only say it if she does not see his face because impossibly, she is keeping the unravelling pieces of her soul stitched tight. But she thinks she may just come apart if she opens her eyes now. “Don’t come back to Terrastella, Tenebrae.” She tenses suddenly and pulls away from him but she is certain she has left her heart behind because all she can feel in her chest is a cold, empty ache. But there is a fire on her lips where his name had just been.
She leaves to walk back to the hospital, leaving Tenebrae behind, to make his own way from her home. It is only when she is alone the sun moves across the sky to come streaming in through the windows, illuminating that golden coat of hers that she realizes what she has said: Do not come back to Terrastella. It was not don’t come back to me. Because maybe, through the jealousy and the hurt, buried there (deep, deep, deep) where she will not see, where he will not see, she doesn't want this to have been the last time.
If Tenebrae was weak, oh, then so was she.
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
