It's not a surprise when he finds himself there.
The cradle of tall grasses which lies between a circle of towering oaks (he's come to think them of as friends) calls to him, the gentle sway of their fronds seemingly beckoning the young man where he treads on weary paws. Something somber lives in his expression, settling unusually on Dante's youthful face, as though his bright features weren't made for such scowling. The boy's long frame carries him swiftly towards the clearing, though his normal limberness is made to look scrawny through the way his shoulders are set; there's a dreary tension within them, as though the young man who bears the weight they carry has become resigned to the pain. The soft drizzle that's continued throughout he day only seems to caricaturize his lank features and gloomy mood, downy pelt drooping slightly with the weight of infinitesimal droplets. Dante couldnt care less, at least not when he's made his way to his resting spot.
He goes down without a sound, eyes fluttering shut softly before every muscle that's been holding up his dainty framework slackens, the young man dropping into the grass and finally just... breathing. Dante breaths.
He inhales memories and exhales loss, squeezing his eyelids tight against the emotion that threatens to stream out. It's not the end of the world, Dante. And it's not. But it is the end of an era, and of a family, and Dante can't help but to wonder if he should have held on tighter. There's naught set in stone, sure, but the young man can feel it slipping away more and more each day, that thread that's tethered the court together. He has Lumi, he knows, and gods is he thankful for her with every fiber of his being. Still, he can't deny the plaintitive feeling that's clawed its way up his throat- he's tried to suppress it and has only ended up choking.
So he doesn't. Dante denies it no longer, and it spills out, out, out of his maw. A cry, poignant and soft, overflowing. He thinks that perhaps the sky weeps with him.
The cradle of tall grasses which lies between a circle of towering oaks (he's come to think them of as friends) calls to him, the gentle sway of their fronds seemingly beckoning the young man where he treads on weary paws. Something somber lives in his expression, settling unusually on Dante's youthful face, as though his bright features weren't made for such scowling. The boy's long frame carries him swiftly towards the clearing, though his normal limberness is made to look scrawny through the way his shoulders are set; there's a dreary tension within them, as though the young man who bears the weight they carry has become resigned to the pain. The soft drizzle that's continued throughout he day only seems to caricaturize his lank features and gloomy mood, downy pelt drooping slightly with the weight of infinitesimal droplets. Dante couldnt care less, at least not when he's made his way to his resting spot.
He goes down without a sound, eyes fluttering shut softly before every muscle that's been holding up his dainty framework slackens, the young man dropping into the grass and finally just... breathing. Dante breaths.
He inhales memories and exhales loss, squeezing his eyelids tight against the emotion that threatens to stream out. It's not the end of the world, Dante. And it's not. But it is the end of an era, and of a family, and Dante can't help but to wonder if he should have held on tighter. There's naught set in stone, sure, but the young man can feel it slipping away more and more each day, that thread that's tethered the court together. He has Lumi, he knows, and gods is he thankful for her with every fiber of his being. Still, he can't deny the plaintitive feeling that's clawed its way up his throat- he's tried to suppress it and has only ended up choking.
So he doesn't. Dante denies it no longer, and it spills out, out, out of his maw. A cry, poignant and soft, overflowing. He thinks that perhaps the sky weeps with him.
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Messages In This Thread
Till I'm Swept Up by the Shape of All the Centuries - by Dante - November 16, 2020, 06:56 PM
RE: Till I'm Swept Up by the Shape of All the Centuries - by Valmúa - November 16, 2020, 07:36 PM
RE: Till I'm Swept Up by the Shape of All the Centuries - by Lumiya - November 17, 2020, 08:55 PM
RE: Till I'm Swept Up by the Shape of All the Centuries - by Eleuthera - November 18, 2020, 02:56 PM
RE: Till I'm Swept Up by the Shape of All the Centuries - by Dante - November 19, 2020, 10:48 AM
RE: Till I'm Swept Up by the Shape of All the Centuries - by Valmúa - November 19, 2020, 01:36 PM