[P] seek me out

[Elena]

It's always a matter, isn't it, of waiting for the world to come unraveled? When things hold together, it's always only temporary

S

he can hear the creature flying above her, his creature. She wonders what ties them together, if it is power, compassion, loyalty, or if some combination. The breeze from his wings catches at her flaxen locks, rustles them, before they settle once more along the gold of her neck. But she does not look at the creature.

“No,” she says, almost empty. “I did not think you were,” she dares to glance upwards, before eyes look once more to the city at the end of the bridge. “Though I think you are looking for something,” the empath says, reading his emotions like a book, there are words for what he feels, but Elena cannot connect them. He cries there in his sky and Elena’s fragile heart rattles in her chest.

It is the ferocious of dragons, she thinks, that makes people want to slay them.

He stands close to her, but she is neither scared of him for being so nor angry with him for being so. And then, as if they were a single entity, they move forward together. You could believe them to be brother and sister in arms, ready to throw themselves into a war. But the war they fight is not anything they have before. Elena wonders if he has fought monsters before. She thinks she has, no, not fought, ran from, ran towards. 

“You are?” She asks him as her breath returns to her. His admission startles her, even as she can feel his own fear dancing with her own (dancing like the ocean in a rainstorm, Elena watches as if from a cliff side.) Blue eyes find the castle, something waits for her there. Small monsters. Large monsters. Monsters all the same.

She remembers picking roses for her mother, and the thorns had cut her. She returned, blood on her golden skin. Her mother coddled her asking why she would do such a thing. Sitting there though, it didn't hurt so bad, not when her mother was wrapped around her, holding her close. “Because we remember what it is like when there is no pain—and we go through hell to try to get it back.”

Why do monsters exist?

She doesn't know. Or she cannot remember why.

She presses close to him, staring up. “I cant do this alone,” she says, presses harder against him. She touches not with want, not with need, nor desire, but complete and utter terror. “And I cant go back either.”

@Vercingtorix
Code by rallidae
picture by cannon