"What the fuck do you care?"
Her vexation. It erupted upon him as the writhing of an irascible volcano, splenetic magma leaking from her tongue, spiteful ash poisoning the air. She was a tempestuous storm in her acrimonious display, but he did not shift - only watched, mind whirring in disconnected silence. There was a lack of regulation in her tone now, as though the chains of her tongue had loosened enough for her to shake free, remorse dissolving and emotions boiling until they burst from the cavities of her chest.
He wasn't fazed, in all truth.
The Svartell’s heart was void of empathy, even as he met the weight of her furious stare - but that did not mean he would cease to read those emotions, flitting across her expression like fragile paper in the force of the wind, regardless of what he felt. Or rather, the lack of what he felt. Her eyes, they collected secrets, those snippets of emotion diving in droplets to gather in a pitiful pool at their very depths - the colliding shades of her gaze. Anger, despondency, agony. Things he never felt. He was almost envious.
The skeletal king waded in rivers of stoic solemnity, allowing her storm to pour over him, a distinct detachment in the ice of his own polar orbs.
"Do you care?"
It was only then that his body seemed to awaken, the diaphanous softness of her tone melting the cold and throat breaking from the surface of suffocating water - it warped around him as a cloak of warmth, but his limbs seemed to lock, jaw steeling itself as his treacherous stare traced Tundra’s movements. Though she claimed not that dangerous enchantment, in this moment, she was tragically beautiful in sadness. Beguiling. Golden ecru marked her crown, even as it appeared to tip from her skull; carried away by the fathomless ripples beside them - as though her hegemony had slipped, diminished, plummeted out of reach; just like her raven friend.
He forced himself to ponder that query, if only for the intimacy in her voice. Did he care? No. Right? He didn't care. But if that was so, why had he approached, if not to toy with her vulnerability, just as she thought he had? As though, perhaps, she knew more of himself than he did. But that was paradoxical. Right?
A thick silence seemed to fall, a veil of equivocation, where a fracture of his eyes portrayed the conflict in his gut, the churning of his stomach. What was this? It was an ugly feeling, he didn't want it, and as soon as he saw it, Aries shut it off. His body seemed to shift back into place, eyes re-adorning themselves in that dusting of ice, so cold, so empty. She was watching him, she would read his expression.
Feel nothing.
"No." But only a fool would believe such a lie. Tundra was no fool.
Her vexation. It erupted upon him as the writhing of an irascible volcano, splenetic magma leaking from her tongue, spiteful ash poisoning the air. She was a tempestuous storm in her acrimonious display, but he did not shift - only watched, mind whirring in disconnected silence. There was a lack of regulation in her tone now, as though the chains of her tongue had loosened enough for her to shake free, remorse dissolving and emotions boiling until they burst from the cavities of her chest.
He wasn't fazed, in all truth.
The Svartell’s heart was void of empathy, even as he met the weight of her furious stare - but that did not mean he would cease to read those emotions, flitting across her expression like fragile paper in the force of the wind, regardless of what he felt. Or rather, the lack of what he felt. Her eyes, they collected secrets, those snippets of emotion diving in droplets to gather in a pitiful pool at their very depths - the colliding shades of her gaze. Anger, despondency, agony. Things he never felt. He was almost envious.
The skeletal king waded in rivers of stoic solemnity, allowing her storm to pour over him, a distinct detachment in the ice of his own polar orbs.
"Do you care?"
It was only then that his body seemed to awaken, the diaphanous softness of her tone melting the cold and throat breaking from the surface of suffocating water - it warped around him as a cloak of warmth, but his limbs seemed to lock, jaw steeling itself as his treacherous stare traced Tundra’s movements. Though she claimed not that dangerous enchantment, in this moment, she was tragically beautiful in sadness. Beguiling. Golden ecru marked her crown, even as it appeared to tip from her skull; carried away by the fathomless ripples beside them - as though her hegemony had slipped, diminished, plummeted out of reach; just like her raven friend.
He forced himself to ponder that query, if only for the intimacy in her voice. Did he care? No. Right? He didn't care. But if that was so, why had he approached, if not to toy with her vulnerability, just as she thought he had? As though, perhaps, she knew more of himself than he did. But that was paradoxical. Right?
A thick silence seemed to fall, a veil of equivocation, where a fracture of his eyes portrayed the conflict in his gut, the churning of his stomach. What was this? It was an ugly feeling, he didn't want it, and as soon as he saw it, Aries shut it off. His body seemed to shift back into place, eyes re-adorning themselves in that dusting of ice, so cold, so empty. She was watching him, she would read his expression.
Feel nothing.
"No." But only a fool would believe such a lie. Tundra was no fool.
If I cannot bend Heaven,
I will raise Hell.
I will raise Hell.
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Messages In This Thread
i took the stars from my eyes and made a man - by Tundra - August 05, 2019, 07:03 PM
RE: i took the stars from my eyes and made a man - by Aries - August 06, 2019, 07:58 AM
RE: i took the stars from my eyes and made a man - by Tundra - August 08, 2019, 03:48 PM
RE: i took the stars from my eyes and made a man - by Aries - August 18, 2019, 06:06 AM
RE: i took the stars from my eyes and made a man - by Tundra - August 23, 2019, 02:59 PM