08-28-2018, 04:06 PM
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as love filled night gives way to day
For days, Hazel could feel the chill. Its cold, familiar claws sunk into her spine, dragged nails against chalkboard in her ears like she was supposed to do something. It called out her name, whispered it on the wind to brush against the shell of her ear. Hazel hadn't a clue what it was waiting for. The pit in her stomach grew heavier every day until she was walking on her toes, waiting for an aura to flicker and fade like candlelight. Anticipation made her heart beat heavy with dread until she could barely stand it: the chill never gave her warning. Not in advance. It was always sudden, always a whirlwind of uncertainty and terror and you weren't fast enough. She was in a constant race with Death, and catching it seemed to be impossible.
The day Margaery Folie-Mikaelson's body crumpled to the ground for the last time, Hazel felt it like a whip of winter wind. It froze her veins solid; it froze her mind, her body: the chill slamming into her rib cage with such force she audibly gasped, winded. A flurry of scents pressed themselves against her nose: roses, wildflowers, perfume. A warm chuckle echoed in her ears. Velvet scrunched beneath her paws. Hazel blinked, breathing too hard for something that happened in a split moment.
Hazel didn't remember moving. She didn't recall the brush of grass or the blue of the sky. She only felt the tug of something morbidly awful draw her ever closer to the cloying scent of roses. She followed the bubbling dread and utter terror rising in the back of her throat, because she already knew what this was. She'd felt it for days; had been anticipating something big for days. Had stuck near Bastille because of it, honestly, worried it might be him.
Roses parted by a breeze, exposing the night terror that was turning into reality. Hazel felt the scene suck the air from her lungs, felt it leave her lips on a breathless sob. Others were there: Harland and Moon and Etty and Zjarr, but it wasn't as if she acknowledged them. Nor did she acknowledge the earth splinter beneath her touch and the trove of sapphire and lapis lazuli stones that filled the cracks. Tears welled in her throat, blocked her airway and choked her, waiting for her to breathe again. Hazel didn't, not wanting to breathe in a world where Margaery didn't. To live in a world where Margaery didn't.
Part of her thought this would be temporary, like the times before; part of her thought that this wasn't final. The other part of her knew better. The prolonged chill that haunted her confirmed as much, whispering wordless things in her ear.
As she stared, fat tears rolling down her face, Hazel realized this was...it. Never again would she hear Margy's warm laugh, or feel relief when she walked into a room. No longer would Hazel have that source of comfort wherever she went; no longer would she feel that motherly protection, that soothing knowledge of being loved in such an unconditional, loyal way. In the way that only mothers could. Memories flashed vividly in her mind, of soft nights and soft lights and grateful hugs and soft thank you's. Of Latin nicknames, of excitement bubbling so fast between the two of them that English would fail them and Latin danced on their lips like old friends from an old world.
Because never again would Hazel have Margaery.
Slowly, Hazel moved to sit near Margaery's head, heedless of the tears dripping onto the chocolate's point soft fur. "Amabo, noli me relinquere non poteris...possum vivere nec sine te," She croaked, English failing her. "Cito Est - Im 'non parati te perdere, Margy..." Every word was harder; every word felt thicker on her tongue. In her mind, she knew Margy was lost to them and she was pleading with a higher power, but...Hazel couldn't stop, not even when tears blurred her vision and she pressed her nose against Margy's cold fur. "Please, I can't lose you...you helped return my childhood to me -" Her wisp of a voice broke on a sob. "Iterum tu mihi est familia."
(Amabo, noli me relinquere non poteris...possum vivere nec sine te. - Please, do not leave me...I cannot handle life without you.
Cito Est - Im 'non parati te perdere, Margy ... It's too soon - I'm not ready to lose you, Margy...
Iterum tu mihi est familia. you gave me a family again.)
The day Margaery Folie-Mikaelson's body crumpled to the ground for the last time, Hazel felt it like a whip of winter wind. It froze her veins solid; it froze her mind, her body: the chill slamming into her rib cage with such force she audibly gasped, winded. A flurry of scents pressed themselves against her nose: roses, wildflowers, perfume. A warm chuckle echoed in her ears. Velvet scrunched beneath her paws. Hazel blinked, breathing too hard for something that happened in a split moment.
Hazel didn't remember moving. She didn't recall the brush of grass or the blue of the sky. She only felt the tug of something morbidly awful draw her ever closer to the cloying scent of roses. She followed the bubbling dread and utter terror rising in the back of her throat, because she already knew what this was. She'd felt it for days; had been anticipating something big for days. Had stuck near Bastille because of it, honestly, worried it might be him.
Roses parted by a breeze, exposing the night terror that was turning into reality. Hazel felt the scene suck the air from her lungs, felt it leave her lips on a breathless sob. Others were there: Harland and Moon and Etty and Zjarr, but it wasn't as if she acknowledged them. Nor did she acknowledge the earth splinter beneath her touch and the trove of sapphire and lapis lazuli stones that filled the cracks. Tears welled in her throat, blocked her airway and choked her, waiting for her to breathe again. Hazel didn't, not wanting to breathe in a world where Margaery didn't. To live in a world where Margaery didn't.
Part of her thought this would be temporary, like the times before; part of her thought that this wasn't final. The other part of her knew better. The prolonged chill that haunted her confirmed as much, whispering wordless things in her ear.
As she stared, fat tears rolling down her face, Hazel realized this was...it. Never again would she hear Margy's warm laugh, or feel relief when she walked into a room. No longer would Hazel have that source of comfort wherever she went; no longer would she feel that motherly protection, that soothing knowledge of being loved in such an unconditional, loyal way. In the way that only mothers could. Memories flashed vividly in her mind, of soft nights and soft lights and grateful hugs and soft thank you's. Of Latin nicknames, of excitement bubbling so fast between the two of them that English would fail them and Latin danced on their lips like old friends from an old world.
Because never again would Hazel have Margaery.
Slowly, Hazel moved to sit near Margaery's head, heedless of the tears dripping onto the chocolate's point soft fur. "Amabo, noli me relinquere non poteris...possum vivere nec sine te," She croaked, English failing her. "Cito Est - Im 'non parati te perdere, Margy..." Every word was harder; every word felt thicker on her tongue. In her mind, she knew Margy was lost to them and she was pleading with a higher power, but...Hazel couldn't stop, not even when tears blurred her vision and she pressed her nose against Margy's cold fur. "Please, I can't lose you...you helped return my childhood to me -" Her wisp of a voice broke on a sob. "Iterum tu mihi est familia."
(Amabo, noli me relinquere non poteris...possum vivere nec sine te. - Please, do not leave me...I cannot handle life without you.
Cito Est - Im 'non parati te perdere, Margy ... It's too soon - I'm not ready to lose you, Margy...
Iterum tu mihi est familia. you gave me a family again.)
© MADI
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better