May 27, 2017, 04:01 PM
you both get my 500th post with turo! ♥
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Arturo watches utterly helpless and loathing of that particular fact as Lotte gathers Eirlys and licks her to try to stimulate some sort of reaction. The snowdrop is alive but the truth is hollow and painful in the face of barely. Eirlys is barely alive. He had tried not to hope because what was he hoping for? For a miracle — for something he did not believe in? He believed in no deities, in no karma, in no divine intervention or retribution. He believed in only what he could see. He is the master of his own fate …just as little, struggling but fighting Eirlys is the master of her’s. “She fights,” He murmurs into his love’s rounded, bear-like ear. He does not say it to inspire anything. He simply states it as he sees it. She has not succumbed to death yet but the contemplation that perhaps death would be a kindness is a particularly cruel one. She fights …but what is it worth? Would she — could she win? Was allowing her to fight for her life just prolonging her suffering? Would they look back upon it and regret it when she succumbs to death? Arturo does not know.
Following the patterns of his life recently, his emotions are chaos within him. Hoping and dreading. He does not like being suspended. If reality is grim — which he has long since acknowledged that it is — then he would sooner face the pain now then prolong it; but he keeps his thoughts to himself. He is no healer, after all and Hemlock had rushed out of the king sequoia with hellbent purpose. Perhaps she does not think the snowdrop is a complete lost cause. For everyone’s sake, Ceannasach hopes that there is truth to the thought. The flame kissed woman returns with a honeycomb, her words accented with a tongue fattening from the sting she had endured to it. Gaze of fiery, blazing suns focus upon the healer with thinly veiled skepticism. Could Eirlys’ problems be solved with something so simple as honey? Still, he trusts Hemlock and reaches forth to take it from her. “How?” He implores of either woman. How were they supposed to get her to eat the honey when she would barely suckle from Lotte’s breast?
[/td][/tr][/table]Following the patterns of his life recently, his emotions are chaos within him. Hoping and dreading. He does not like being suspended. If reality is grim — which he has long since acknowledged that it is — then he would sooner face the pain now then prolong it; but he keeps his thoughts to himself. He is no healer, after all and Hemlock had rushed out of the king sequoia with hellbent purpose. Perhaps she does not think the snowdrop is a complete lost cause. For everyone’s sake, Ceannasach hopes that there is truth to the thought. The flame kissed woman returns with a honeycomb, her words accented with a tongue fattening from the sting she had endured to it. Gaze of fiery, blazing suns focus upon the healer with thinly veiled skepticism. Could Eirlys’ problems be solved with something so simple as honey? Still, he trusts Hemlock and reaches forth to take it from her. “How?” He implores of either woman. How were they supposed to get her to eat the honey when she would barely suckle from Lotte’s breast?
wreathed in iron and in fire
i bare my bloody teeth
and only pity makes my strike so clean
i bare my bloody teeth
and only pity makes my strike so clean
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Messages In This Thread
before the song dies - by Eirlys - April 22, 2017, 01:21 PM
RE: before the song dies - by Hemlock - April 22, 2017, 05:09 PM
RE: before the song dies - by Arturo - April 23, 2017, 06:25 AM
RE: before the song dies - by Eirlys - May 06, 2017, 06:29 PM
RE: before the song dies - by Hemlock - May 11, 2017, 12:32 AM
RE: before the song dies - by Arturo - May 27, 2017, 04:01 PM
RE: before the song dies - by Hemlock - June 21, 2017, 11:13 PM
RE: before the song dies - by Lotte - June 23, 2017, 09:33 PM
RE: before the song dies - by Eirlys - July 13, 2017, 03:16 PM