and bury it before it buries me
Once she was a prisoner. Broch had allowed her the freedom to roam, she had been in Culloden with her best friend, but still, there had been invisible chains placed over her ankles, binding her. It was then she had lost such faith in her obsidian liberator when he had not come for her. And that was the first time she had questioned what love truly was, what it meant. She finds herself questioning it still. It had always been easy for her parents, and Elena cannot help but wonder why it could not have been just as easy for her. “Fate,” Marcelo would say. Elena inwardly rolls her eyes at his invisible comment.
She makes no effort to join them, is content to stand quietly on her own and observe them from what feels like a safe distance. Even putting space between her and the others, the sunshine girl feels like she is a flood of ever changing feelings. It would seem they are content to leave her be, let the blonde girl sit alone. All except one, the way he moves, the directness of him he is coming to her. She is quiet then for a moment, observing, letting his own emotions come at her in waves. Elena turns her own face away, thinking this could stop the torrential downpour that rains on her soul. Fear, joy, anger…another….something….anger again.
A smile.
The sunlight was beginning to wane, tucking itself beyond the horizon and leaving a soft glow of amber and crimson in its wake, though soon the sky is swathed in darkness, as the soft, glimmering light of wayward stars dance along the edges of a bright, rising crescent moon. Her gold skin is bathed in its soft, bleak light, while those too blue eyes look to his face. The creeping of embarrassment spread across the pale curve of her cheek as she realizes how she must have looked.
She knows then what power he posses. She does not know how she knows this (for it is neither said nor shown) just that she knows. She is so plain against him. “Maybe I was just waiting for something incredible to happen,” she says with a playful narrow of her eyes. Her eyes turn up for a moment to find that emerging night sky, tracing the faint constellations that will splatter across the horizon. (In between heartbeats, Azrael emerges, as he always does with the stars.) “I am,” she answers him. “Well, not really actually,” she confesses. “I came here to just—get away from things and was ambushed,” she finishes (perhaps the use of the word ambushed was a poor description for a party). He was a stranger, a strange man at that and Elena has had little luck with the strangers she meets. “And you, are you here for celebrations?” She asks him with a brightness returning in her voice, despite the way his mash of emotions wriggles in her chest. She cannot decide if she wants to scream, laugh, shiver, or sneeze. “Or are you the entertainment we were promised? You look like the type to have a trick or two up your sleeve.”
She makes no effort to join them, is content to stand quietly on her own and observe them from what feels like a safe distance. Even putting space between her and the others, the sunshine girl feels like she is a flood of ever changing feelings. It would seem they are content to leave her be, let the blonde girl sit alone. All except one, the way he moves, the directness of him he is coming to her. She is quiet then for a moment, observing, letting his own emotions come at her in waves. Elena turns her own face away, thinking this could stop the torrential downpour that rains on her soul. Fear, joy, anger…another….something….anger again.
A smile.
The sunlight was beginning to wane, tucking itself beyond the horizon and leaving a soft glow of amber and crimson in its wake, though soon the sky is swathed in darkness, as the soft, glimmering light of wayward stars dance along the edges of a bright, rising crescent moon. Her gold skin is bathed in its soft, bleak light, while those too blue eyes look to his face. The creeping of embarrassment spread across the pale curve of her cheek as she realizes how she must have looked.
She knows then what power he posses. She does not know how she knows this (for it is neither said nor shown) just that she knows. She is so plain against him. “Maybe I was just waiting for something incredible to happen,” she says with a playful narrow of her eyes. Her eyes turn up for a moment to find that emerging night sky, tracing the faint constellations that will splatter across the horizon. (In between heartbeats, Azrael emerges, as he always does with the stars.) “I am,” she answers him. “Well, not really actually,” she confesses. “I came here to just—get away from things and was ambushed,” she finishes (perhaps the use of the word ambushed was a poor description for a party). He was a stranger, a strange man at that and Elena has had little luck with the strangers she meets. “And you, are you here for celebrations?” She asks him with a brightness returning in her voice, despite the way his mash of emotions wriggles in her chest. She cannot decide if she wants to scream, laugh, shiver, or sneeze. “Or are you the entertainment we were promised? You look like the type to have a trick or two up your sleeve.”
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@
![[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
