04-14-2021, 03:52 AM
[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 7.5pt; max-width: 440px; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Too well he knew the complications that arose within the wake of love. Far from the simple pleasantry of fleeting affection, the whim of a child that alighted about gifted promises of affection that time unwound, a game all it was. The chaste affection of understood attraction dressed as something more, the quivering petals of a new love unlikely to grow but pretty for the time it lingered. The sharp, biting taste of a short lived connection, known the edges that pronounced it as doomed and this into it thrown, abandoned caution where it is not needed.
His the apple that dripped with poison, a syrup sweet against the lips, smooth honey coating the throat, yet there it clung until the breath was gone, choked up even as words flooded trembling jaws.
Close held all the same, fragmented scenes poor in their reconstruction painted along the ebony veil of slumbering mind, dreams at once imbued with the lightness of joy and the heavy press of despair. Never prolonged the visitation, her visage split apart by a smile spoiled as the seconds passed, smoke and heat a wavering wave, impenetrable even as desire pushed him into those tongue grown hungry for his flesh. Always his waking coupled with agony, his mind rebelling, apparent made the falsehood. Still he believed even as reality closed in around him, dissipating the dream as though it had become the smoke that filled it.
No different this morning, trembling the paws that roved skin untouched, whole against the destruction that closed over his thoughts with the closure of his eyes, there burnt, an after image he could not shake. The rasp of unsteady breath slow to grow even once more, a pace behind the thunder of his heart. Too slowly they settle in turn, alone left with the tangled snare of his thoughts, want bleeding through rejection, forehead pressed to cool stone, the shock of difference in comparison to his flushed skin soothing. Tongue traced dry lips, found a wish to speak, her name hanging by a thread.
Silent the snap, movement never accompanied by sound, swallowed in the darkness that ebbed and flowed, a constant motion that gave as easily as it revoked. Choked the noise rested atop his tongue, captured between grinding points, the pain a spime shallowly dug into the folds of his mind, between his breath escaping with dwindling remnants of buried sorrow. His composure once more built, teeth releasing a grip that had coaxed blood from minute breaks in the muscle, copper and salt coming together in the back of his throat.
Difficult to determine the exact amount of time that passed as his body answered his commands, dressed his escape as fulfilment of desire, dry throat aching and tantalising the cool water that rested in close proximity. Tremor made sluggish his progress, thus the scene into which he intruded had found a lull, voices dying as the reverberations faded. Tense the silence that occupied the atmosphere about the three, his study bringing knowledge he wished may be rejected, proven false even as his mind continued to loop a single thought.
Aesior was leaving.
Words built atop his tongue only to become ash, throat closing around a lump, there already yet built upon. It was not his place to put forth argument, seek to halt this development when he was nothing to the pale tabby, nor did he bear any grand significance. Liar. The thought a gentle whisper that bore razor wire, cleaves through any excuse he may formulate. Aesior meant something to Vincent, the exact peramiters, even a name for it, lacking though such did not subtract the manner he viewed the other. A silent bystander all he was, too numerous the questions that filled his mind, grew evident in averted eyes, explanation wanted but not sought.
His the apple that dripped with poison, a syrup sweet against the lips, smooth honey coating the throat, yet there it clung until the breath was gone, choked up even as words flooded trembling jaws.
Close held all the same, fragmented scenes poor in their reconstruction painted along the ebony veil of slumbering mind, dreams at once imbued with the lightness of joy and the heavy press of despair. Never prolonged the visitation, her visage split apart by a smile spoiled as the seconds passed, smoke and heat a wavering wave, impenetrable even as desire pushed him into those tongue grown hungry for his flesh. Always his waking coupled with agony, his mind rebelling, apparent made the falsehood. Still he believed even as reality closed in around him, dissipating the dream as though it had become the smoke that filled it.
No different this morning, trembling the paws that roved skin untouched, whole against the destruction that closed over his thoughts with the closure of his eyes, there burnt, an after image he could not shake. The rasp of unsteady breath slow to grow even once more, a pace behind the thunder of his heart. Too slowly they settle in turn, alone left with the tangled snare of his thoughts, want bleeding through rejection, forehead pressed to cool stone, the shock of difference in comparison to his flushed skin soothing. Tongue traced dry lips, found a wish to speak, her name hanging by a thread.
Silent the snap, movement never accompanied by sound, swallowed in the darkness that ebbed and flowed, a constant motion that gave as easily as it revoked. Choked the noise rested atop his tongue, captured between grinding points, the pain a spime shallowly dug into the folds of his mind, between his breath escaping with dwindling remnants of buried sorrow. His composure once more built, teeth releasing a grip that had coaxed blood from minute breaks in the muscle, copper and salt coming together in the back of his throat.
Difficult to determine the exact amount of time that passed as his body answered his commands, dressed his escape as fulfilment of desire, dry throat aching and tantalising the cool water that rested in close proximity. Tremor made sluggish his progress, thus the scene into which he intruded had found a lull, voices dying as the reverberations faded. Tense the silence that occupied the atmosphere about the three, his study bringing knowledge he wished may be rejected, proven false even as his mind continued to loop a single thought.
Aesior was leaving.
Words built atop his tongue only to become ash, throat closing around a lump, there already yet built upon. It was not his place to put forth argument, seek to halt this development when he was nothing to the pale tabby, nor did he bear any grand significance. Liar. The thought a gentle whisper that bore razor wire, cleaves through any excuse he may formulate. Aesior meant something to Vincent, the exact peramiters, even a name for it, lacking though such did not subtract the manner he viewed the other. A silent bystander all he was, too numerous the questions that filled his mind, grew evident in averted eyes, explanation wanted but not sought.