04-15-2021, 09:00 AM
[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 7.5pt; max-width: 400px; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Gentle the rise, a flow without conclusion, gentle ebb that woven in the wake of departure, fleeting the tail of anger upon which he clasped with futile want. Never was it to over extend a stay that had wound down in the span of moments, replacement poor, held for better an ill fit than the empty echo of hollow space ringing with silence. There it in pools hued akin to clustered petals, seeking and thus found, a fragment of light supposedly carved from the gentle cascade and given breath, life both terrible and beautiful.
For a moment it is not him caught in stilled vision, different the identity placed against his skin, a replica made as the moment grew still, time frozen for the span of an unsure heartbeat. Realisation a cruel strike, akin to the arc of lightning splitting the dark belly of roiling storm clouds, such made his thoughts, a contained disaster wound about the ache of budding pain. Attention turning, rejection a barb pressed against his tongue, edges coming together. Release never permitted, dwindling until purpose taken from the muscle pressed to the roof of his touch, the light graze of barely present touch straightening curled spine.
Met the other, useless the wish to find grey, anything found in those cool depths to explain. The chance no presented, study taking attention unneeded, pressed down the desire slow to grow, tremor enveloping out stretched extremity all the same. Undeserved the practiced motion, the retrieval and subsequent press of entangled fibres more than deserved, better accepted his slip and the outcome produced. Still he would not withdraw, silent as ivory slowly changed, mouth silent in movement, grown difficult the once simple task of speaking.
Maybe better this way, vision averted, his mind prepared to pull forth an instance when upon the ragged peaks of thickened tissue had he gazed, silenced the quiet doubt that inoperable a voice once thought merely underutilised. Understood his folly, despised it even as it played at the edge of his mind, built up too many queries that pressed against his clenched teeth. "Why… you don't know me and yet you waste your supplies on me." Strained his hushed voice, alight the shift of lips, wished taken back his words even as they hung heavy in the air.
A truth in it, his time among these people who deemed themselves protectors of a land barren and laced with crags, not enough to account for the care Aesior offered as though it were but a facet of his nature. Maybe this the purpose of such community, the shared expertise and supplies, simply too low his opinion of himself, a weight that he could not shift even as he wished to be rid of it.
For a moment it is not him caught in stilled vision, different the identity placed against his skin, a replica made as the moment grew still, time frozen for the span of an unsure heartbeat. Realisation a cruel strike, akin to the arc of lightning splitting the dark belly of roiling storm clouds, such made his thoughts, a contained disaster wound about the ache of budding pain. Attention turning, rejection a barb pressed against his tongue, edges coming together. Release never permitted, dwindling until purpose taken from the muscle pressed to the roof of his touch, the light graze of barely present touch straightening curled spine.
Met the other, useless the wish to find grey, anything found in those cool depths to explain. The chance no presented, study taking attention unneeded, pressed down the desire slow to grow, tremor enveloping out stretched extremity all the same. Undeserved the practiced motion, the retrieval and subsequent press of entangled fibres more than deserved, better accepted his slip and the outcome produced. Still he would not withdraw, silent as ivory slowly changed, mouth silent in movement, grown difficult the once simple task of speaking.
Maybe better this way, vision averted, his mind prepared to pull forth an instance when upon the ragged peaks of thickened tissue had he gazed, silenced the quiet doubt that inoperable a voice once thought merely underutilised. Understood his folly, despised it even as it played at the edge of his mind, built up too many queries that pressed against his clenched teeth. "Why… you don't know me and yet you waste your supplies on me." Strained his hushed voice, alight the shift of lips, wished taken back his words even as they hung heavy in the air.
A truth in it, his time among these people who deemed themselves protectors of a land barren and laced with crags, not enough to account for the care Aesior offered as though it were but a facet of his nature. Maybe this the purpose of such community, the shared expertise and supplies, simply too low his opinion of himself, a weight that he could not shift even as he wished to be rid of it.