dont you bore us
03-24-2015, 05:38 PM
One more lone tear escaped his right eye, rolling with immeasurable weight down his face to fall upon the stone with a robust “plip.” Svetovid did not blink, did not move his stare once from his sister’s face. Half of him was terrified of what she might say – wanting so badly to fold his ears and shut every sound out – but half of him had missed her so badly and wanted nothing more than to press into her fur and smell the only smell that had ever been familiar and comforting. He stood where he was, as still as a sculpture and looking every bit like one. His breaths came in and left like ghosts, shallow and inaudible as his chest barely rose. The silence was torturous, yet what Lirika said soon made him wish he could creep back to that noiseless agony.
Her words were biting, and he inhaled softly, feeling as if he’d been physically struck by her accusing voice. The accusing tone of his baby sister – all grown up now. They both were. They’d gone and grown up apart. His flesh shivered, his heart wrenched with emotion. The wolf’s teeth gritted a little more, and his gaze sank briefly to the floor before rising again, his platinum eyes narrowing. ”No,” came the firm, almost stubborn sounding gravelly syllable. He swallowed quietly, wetting his lips and breathing in again, trying to steady his own thinking and calm the monsoon of emotion that swept through his head and heart. He knew he was in the wrong here, but he had no excuses.
The beast remained silent for another moment, studying his sister’s face with an ever so slightly softened stare. He felt bad. So simply bad. Like all the rot in the world had spun up into one cloud, and now rained down in his throat and chest. There was nothing he could say to make this better – not for her. No “sorry,” no promises, no regrets. A promise meant nothing to either of them – not after their parents. He hoped she realized that, realized that he knew. He blinked gently a few times, soothing his reddened eyes and ridding them of the last straggling drops. ”How long have you been here?” he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. After a short delay, he motioned outside with his muzzle. “Here” as in Alacritia.
Her words were biting, and he inhaled softly, feeling as if he’d been physically struck by her accusing voice. The accusing tone of his baby sister – all grown up now. They both were. They’d gone and grown up apart. His flesh shivered, his heart wrenched with emotion. The wolf’s teeth gritted a little more, and his gaze sank briefly to the floor before rising again, his platinum eyes narrowing. ”No,” came the firm, almost stubborn sounding gravelly syllable. He swallowed quietly, wetting his lips and breathing in again, trying to steady his own thinking and calm the monsoon of emotion that swept through his head and heart. He knew he was in the wrong here, but he had no excuses.
The beast remained silent for another moment, studying his sister’s face with an ever so slightly softened stare. He felt bad. So simply bad. Like all the rot in the world had spun up into one cloud, and now rained down in his throat and chest. There was nothing he could say to make this better – not for her. No “sorry,” no promises, no regrets. A promise meant nothing to either of them – not after their parents. He hoped she realized that, realized that he knew. He blinked gently a few times, soothing his reddened eyes and ridding them of the last straggling drops. ”How long have you been here?” he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. After a short delay, he motioned outside with his muzzle. “Here” as in Alacritia.