09-13-2018, 09:04 PM
[align=center][div style="max-width:400pt; text-align:justify; font-size:9pt;"]After so many lifetimes of knowing Demesne, Redamancy had believed there was little capable of surprising him in reference to her, and perhaps his comfort in that was part of his undoing when she stood before him and sent his small planet hurtling out of orbit with words alone.
"I can't do this anymore." But no, not that sentence in its entirety; they had each frequently expressed their own exhaustion with returning to a world they had outgrown. It was what followed that abandoned him to the jagged lines of the coast: "I will not look for you next time." They had always found each other when the memories gave their inexplicable longing a focal point, gravitating irrevocably to their missing half. Redamancy never tired of seeing Demesne again for the first time, in whatever body she was born into; her eyes never changed, even as the lifetimes altered their color and shape. They were forever consummate knives, able to flay apart anyone in their path, and he had loved that, always, until the looming dawn shed a grim light onto never again.
She left him, then, her parting words seared into his flesh. "I look at you, and I can only see the curse. We have outgrown each other, too." He remained paralyzed for an indeterminable period, re-tracing his steps for a sign of what she referred to, but Redamancy had never felt burdened by the incessant draw. Yet Demesne had, and so he concluded that it was she who outgrew him, rather than a mutual separation.
There was nowhere for him to go, and he wandered in the direction opposite her departure.
Perhaps she had found someone who ignited her passion, who returned life to the dying star, and Redamancy was a fool to believe they were content, but her decision felt all too...inconsiderate of what they had sacrificed for each other. That was likely the barrier that had crept between them.
Dark and dreary eyes flit across the expanse of grass at his front, a structure in the distance he could not identify. It smelled of people, here, and Redamancy was too wearied for concern that the inhabitants might manifest as hostile. Death held no significance for someone never bound to it permanently. It would be a welcome mercy,
"I can't do this anymore." But no, not that sentence in its entirety; they had each frequently expressed their own exhaustion with returning to a world they had outgrown. It was what followed that abandoned him to the jagged lines of the coast: "I will not look for you next time." They had always found each other when the memories gave their inexplicable longing a focal point, gravitating irrevocably to their missing half. Redamancy never tired of seeing Demesne again for the first time, in whatever body she was born into; her eyes never changed, even as the lifetimes altered their color and shape. They were forever consummate knives, able to flay apart anyone in their path, and he had loved that, always, until the looming dawn shed a grim light onto never again.
She left him, then, her parting words seared into his flesh. "I look at you, and I can only see the curse. We have outgrown each other, too." He remained paralyzed for an indeterminable period, re-tracing his steps for a sign of what she referred to, but Redamancy had never felt burdened by the incessant draw. Yet Demesne had, and so he concluded that it was she who outgrew him, rather than a mutual separation.
There was nowhere for him to go, and he wandered in the direction opposite her departure.
Perhaps she had found someone who ignited her passion, who returned life to the dying star, and Redamancy was a fool to believe they were content, but her decision felt all too...inconsiderate of what they had sacrificed for each other. That was likely the barrier that had crept between them.
Dark and dreary eyes flit across the expanse of grass at his front, a structure in the distance he could not identify. It smelled of people, here, and Redamancy was too wearied for concern that the inhabitants might manifest as hostile. Death held no significance for someone never bound to it permanently. It would be a welcome mercy,