rage is not beautiful.
it is the ugly head of a rabid animal
foaming at the mouth,
worms in its heart.
it is the ugly head of a rabid animal
foaming at the mouth,
worms in its heart.
Thank you, for keeping us safe.
She looks so worried, creased around the eyes and the mouth, cheeks drawn in hard lines. He doesn't know how to tell her that every light casts a shadow--which she must know already, right?--and that Delumine is drawn primarily by the shade of its tall trees and the lightless black of its nights. He wants to say, thank you. He wants to say, yes, of course, anything for my country and its people.
But he has not felt safe since the meadow and its shack, dripping with saltwater and lit only by the blue light of his rage. He clenches, then unclenches his teeth. For perhaps the first time in his still-short, volatile life, the expression passes over and out of the lines of his face like it was never there to begin with. Andras only nods, sternly, meeting Solstice's eyes.
"No, ma'am. It's safe."
Her story works its way first through his skull, making it ache with the force of his jaw wrenched together. He's trying to imagine this girl, all the soft, vibrant colors of the morning sky, like a summer bird perched in one of their old, looming trees, held prisoner, made to feel small and afraid and trapped.
Andras follows her as she walks, only stretching his wings out when she does, crackling uncomfortably. He has never known her kind of fear, or sadness. He has never known what it's like to be held against his will-- or, on the flip side of the coin, her brief moments of rest in an otherwise unforgiving world.
He has never let anyone, or anything, close enough to have the chance.
Maybe you could teach me? she asks, and Andras looks at her, not for the first time, and he's sure not the last, with sudden, slack-jawed surprise.
There's something in her eyes, when he sees her. It makes him feel light, and giddy, and ready to burst. It's a familiar feeling. "I can do that. I would love to do that." He smiles, again, bright and warm and comfortable. "But for now, I need to check on the rest of the festival. It's been--and I mean this--nice to meet you."
The warden ducks his head, an overly polite bow, and turns to leave.
As he does so, he raises one wing to wave goodbye.
"Freedom does suit you."
She looks so worried, creased around the eyes and the mouth, cheeks drawn in hard lines. He doesn't know how to tell her that every light casts a shadow--which she must know already, right?--and that Delumine is drawn primarily by the shade of its tall trees and the lightless black of its nights. He wants to say, thank you. He wants to say, yes, of course, anything for my country and its people.
But he has not felt safe since the meadow and its shack, dripping with saltwater and lit only by the blue light of his rage. He clenches, then unclenches his teeth. For perhaps the first time in his still-short, volatile life, the expression passes over and out of the lines of his face like it was never there to begin with. Andras only nods, sternly, meeting Solstice's eyes.
"No, ma'am. It's safe."
Her story works its way first through his skull, making it ache with the force of his jaw wrenched together. He's trying to imagine this girl, all the soft, vibrant colors of the morning sky, like a summer bird perched in one of their old, looming trees, held prisoner, made to feel small and afraid and trapped.
Andras follows her as she walks, only stretching his wings out when she does, crackling uncomfortably. He has never known her kind of fear, or sadness. He has never known what it's like to be held against his will-- or, on the flip side of the coin, her brief moments of rest in an otherwise unforgiving world.
He has never let anyone, or anything, close enough to have the chance.
Maybe you could teach me? she asks, and Andras looks at her, not for the first time, and he's sure not the last, with sudden, slack-jawed surprise.
There's something in her eyes, when he sees her. It makes him feel light, and giddy, and ready to burst. It's a familiar feeling. "I can do that. I would love to do that." He smiles, again, bright and warm and comfortable. "But for now, I need to check on the rest of the festival. It's been--and I mean this--nice to meet you."
The warden ducks his head, an overly polite bow, and turns to leave.
As he does so, he raises one wing to wave goodbye.
"Freedom does suit you."
@solstice
<3 closer for you! i love her desperately
they made you into a weapon
and told you to find peace.
