Post by Quill on Nov 8, 2011 21:41:18 GMT -5
Your name is Atilax Tikavi, and you dream about death.
You dream about death with your eyes open.
You remember the first time you had one of your dreams. You remember seeing a girl in red. She was so happy, smiling, living life. You remember her lusus sleeping beside her, and the gentle glow of a husktop. You remember a boy who flew, with bright red and blue eyes that burned. You remember the girl seeming excited, then confused, then scared. You remember the girl not being anything after that.
You tried to pull the dream out of your head with your bare hands. It was only the timely intervention of your custodian that saved your eye. Eventually you learned that you could get the dreams out by using paint instead of your hands. Once you put the dreams on paper, you didn't see them in your head any more. You painted that dream first, and stuck it to the wall of your respiteblock. Sometimes you wonder if it ever really happened. You wonder if you were seeing the future or the past, something real or something fake, or something happening in another universe entirely. You touch the scar and decide you don't want to know that badly.
--
Your name is Isurus Sfyrna and you are about to die.
You are entirely okay with this.
You stand at the top of the sheer cliff, looking down at surf lapping against the jagged, deadly rocks so far below you. The water will wash your ugly blood off of the stones. Not even stones should suffer your blood.
You lean forward slightly, and prepare to drop, your eyes closed. You begin to slip, and your stomach disobeys your brain and twists itself into knots.
But you aren't falling. Something is holding you, something is grabbing your arms and keeping you on the cliff top. Something is crying.
"pleasse, don't do thiss!" something sobs, tightening is grip on you. "i'm tired of sseeing your blood on thosse rockss! it'ss a beautiful color pleasse don't make me watch you sspill it any more!"
Something called your blood beautiful. She called your blood beautiful. You open your eyes and look to her. Her hair falls in dark curls around her face, and she is crying yellow tears, running a rivulet through an old scar on her cheek. She slurs through teeth pointed outwards, and begs you again.
You let her take you back to her hive, after you hook your little fingers to ensure you won't throw yourself off any cliffs. For the first time since you can remember, something makes you smile. She makes you smile.
You dream about death with your eyes open.
You remember the first time you had one of your dreams. You remember seeing a girl in red. She was so happy, smiling, living life. You remember her lusus sleeping beside her, and the gentle glow of a husktop. You remember a boy who flew, with bright red and blue eyes that burned. You remember the girl seeming excited, then confused, then scared. You remember the girl not being anything after that.
You tried to pull the dream out of your head with your bare hands. It was only the timely intervention of your custodian that saved your eye. Eventually you learned that you could get the dreams out by using paint instead of your hands. Once you put the dreams on paper, you didn't see them in your head any more. You painted that dream first, and stuck it to the wall of your respiteblock. Sometimes you wonder if it ever really happened. You wonder if you were seeing the future or the past, something real or something fake, or something happening in another universe entirely. You touch the scar and decide you don't want to know that badly.
--
Your name is Isurus Sfyrna and you are about to die.
You are entirely okay with this.
You stand at the top of the sheer cliff, looking down at surf lapping against the jagged, deadly rocks so far below you. The water will wash your ugly blood off of the stones. Not even stones should suffer your blood.
You lean forward slightly, and prepare to drop, your eyes closed. You begin to slip, and your stomach disobeys your brain and twists itself into knots.
But you aren't falling. Something is holding you, something is grabbing your arms and keeping you on the cliff top. Something is crying.
"pleasse, don't do thiss!" something sobs, tightening is grip on you. "i'm tired of sseeing your blood on thosse rockss! it'ss a beautiful color pleasse don't make me watch you sspill it any more!"
Something called your blood beautiful. She called your blood beautiful. You open your eyes and look to her. Her hair falls in dark curls around her face, and she is crying yellow tears, running a rivulet through an old scar on her cheek. She slurs through teeth pointed outwards, and begs you again.
You let her take you back to her hive, after you hook your little fingers to ensure you won't throw yourself off any cliffs. For the first time since you can remember, something makes you smile. She makes you smile.
