AESIOR OPHELES
✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go
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Tw: Brief mention of abuse in last sentence in last paragraph! //
The soft voice within its own right to panic brought his gaze about, his stomach lurching. The first to come across him in this state of half-prepared flight had been none other than fragglerock. So wished he the voice that had long left him, gray eyes darkened by a fear and a sorrow. Could he abandon another child that he cared about? Could he push himself to be so cruel once again? Working his mouth wordlessly, his paws working the ground underneath him as shivers began to wrack him. He wanted to drop everything and rush to the child, to embrace him and assure him he was fine. Quick the closure of darkened eyes, his lips trembling as he tried to speak, he tried to force his ruined voice to work with him. The pain was so intense he could barely breathe as he managed a low crooning groan, pitched and jagged. Step, stepping forward before taking a step back, his ears trembling against his skull, tail drooped to the ground in a defeat he felt wholly.
Struggling, struggling so hard with voice broken and shattered beyond any proper use, rough the coughing that followed as he tried again, that desperate crooning groan, shaping his mouth around the word he couldn't speak. The pain it brought forth caused his eyes to water and tears to draw forth against his whims. Ah, he couldn't abandon him. Finally the shake of head, his paw reached towards Fraggle upon the ground, gasping his breath as he stared at him with a sadness there. Shaking his head, eyes flying away as Arlo's voice joined the fray.
Stepping back, his gaze fixed on his paws. He couldn't lie to his face, hells, he couldn't lie to either of them. Raising a paw to rub the tears of pain away, panting as he finally looked back up, looking at Arlo. He wasn't lying, he just needed space, space to figure his stupid heart out. Again, his jaw worked helplessly, even worse these coughs, a distressed expression on his face as his body was wracked. Quick the turn to fish out notebook, messy the broken writing before it was abandoned, unable to write the words he wanted to say. His thoughts were in collision with each other, frantic what he felt as he tasted copper along the back of his mouth and tongue.
Intense pain and fear, is what he felt, his breathing labored. He didn't know what all he was scared of right now but the sight of the bedraggled Arlo only made his heart hurt. He couldn't go back to the way things used to be. Apologetic the worn expression, his messy explanation put further off by his coughing, petals from the orchids grown along his fur falling with the faint blood speckles, panting as he pressed himself to the ground. Hed been screaming hours before and the effort to try to talk was showing its dangerous work, his paw raised to his mouth to try and stop a barrier to the blood.
Next came Vincent, the tired soldier a familiar presence. Another friendly face to leave behind because of his heart. Another face to haunt him unto the end. The averted gaze spoke enough, hurt in the other not shown in physical means, unspoken as most the soldier's expressions and feelings. Anguished the gaze he gave to Vincent, his eyes squeezing shut as he let his heartbeat slow and return to a mostly regular tempo. Keeping his eyes closed and head down, legs shivering from the wracking pain. Grief and resentment aimed at himself, anger curdling through his bones. He was weak, and he knew it. Heavy the breathing as he rested in a fatigued half-collapse, each breath costing him more pain. Quiet came the intrusion attempted, voice faint and quiet, pained as though it was spoken aloud,
trip. going on trip. I don't know how long. Got bad news, need time alone if his telepathic voice did not reach them, he would gaze at his notebook with empty eyes, his sides heaving with each breath. It wasn't quite a lie, a white lie. The bad news was his own, his reaction to feeling these emotions, and perhaps the aggravated state of his throat. It was true that he needed to get away, he needed time to figure himself out and allow himself to heal. There were many bad things in his past, most bad relationships that heavily tainted how he viewed relationships now. Hell, he'd nearly been killed by an ex without warning when things had been fine - his trust for others despite his knowledge of them caused him to fear what would come of allowing his feelings to dictate his heart.
The soft voice within its own right to panic brought his gaze about, his stomach lurching. The first to come across him in this state of half-prepared flight had been none other than fragglerock. So wished he the voice that had long left him, gray eyes darkened by a fear and a sorrow. Could he abandon another child that he cared about? Could he push himself to be so cruel once again? Working his mouth wordlessly, his paws working the ground underneath him as shivers began to wrack him. He wanted to drop everything and rush to the child, to embrace him and assure him he was fine. Quick the closure of darkened eyes, his lips trembling as he tried to speak, he tried to force his ruined voice to work with him. The pain was so intense he could barely breathe as he managed a low crooning groan, pitched and jagged. Step, stepping forward before taking a step back, his ears trembling against his skull, tail drooped to the ground in a defeat he felt wholly.
Struggling, struggling so hard with voice broken and shattered beyond any proper use, rough the coughing that followed as he tried again, that desperate crooning groan, shaping his mouth around the word he couldn't speak. The pain it brought forth caused his eyes to water and tears to draw forth against his whims. Ah, he couldn't abandon him. Finally the shake of head, his paw reached towards Fraggle upon the ground, gasping his breath as he stared at him with a sadness there. Shaking his head, eyes flying away as Arlo's voice joined the fray.
Stepping back, his gaze fixed on his paws. He couldn't lie to his face, hells, he couldn't lie to either of them. Raising a paw to rub the tears of pain away, panting as he finally looked back up, looking at Arlo. He wasn't lying, he just needed space, space to figure his stupid heart out. Again, his jaw worked helplessly, even worse these coughs, a distressed expression on his face as his body was wracked. Quick the turn to fish out notebook, messy the broken writing before it was abandoned, unable to write the words he wanted to say. His thoughts were in collision with each other, frantic what he felt as he tasted copper along the back of his mouth and tongue.
Intense pain and fear, is what he felt, his breathing labored. He didn't know what all he was scared of right now but the sight of the bedraggled Arlo only made his heart hurt. He couldn't go back to the way things used to be. Apologetic the worn expression, his messy explanation put further off by his coughing, petals from the orchids grown along his fur falling with the faint blood speckles, panting as he pressed himself to the ground. Hed been screaming hours before and the effort to try to talk was showing its dangerous work, his paw raised to his mouth to try and stop a barrier to the blood.
Next came Vincent, the tired soldier a familiar presence. Another friendly face to leave behind because of his heart. Another face to haunt him unto the end. The averted gaze spoke enough, hurt in the other not shown in physical means, unspoken as most the soldier's expressions and feelings. Anguished the gaze he gave to Vincent, his eyes squeezing shut as he let his heartbeat slow and return to a mostly regular tempo. Keeping his eyes closed and head down, legs shivering from the wracking pain. Grief and resentment aimed at himself, anger curdling through his bones. He was weak, and he knew it. Heavy the breathing as he rested in a fatigued half-collapse, each breath costing him more pain. Quiet came the intrusion attempted, voice faint and quiet, pained as though it was spoken aloud,
trip. going on trip. I don't know how long. Got bad news, need time alone if his telepathic voice did not reach them, he would gaze at his notebook with empty eyes, his sides heaving with each breath. It wasn't quite a lie, a white lie. The bad news was his own, his reaction to feeling these emotions, and perhaps the aggravated state of his throat. It was true that he needed to get away, he needed time to figure himself out and allow himself to heal. There were many bad things in his past, most bad relationships that heavily tainted how he viewed relationships now. Hell, he'd nearly been killed by an ex without warning when things had been fine - his trust for others despite his knowledge of them caused him to fear what would come of allowing his feelings to dictate his heart.
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THE FLOWER BURNS