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Vii - Blog Posts
πππ πππ ,Β πππ πππ , πππππππ , πππ πππππππ , ππππππππ ππ πππ ππππ.Β Β endurance.Β to not scratch, or rub, or break the stitches, to not tear the wound all open once more.Β to let it be, and let it settle, and let it become part of a body.Β the body which cradled the memory.Β the memory that ought not be removed. and herein :Β the nudge, her test, the voice, clear as crystal.Β a refusal, on her part, to be silenced or to accept silence. β now now, it is rather impolite to let a lady be left with crumbs and assume the rest of your train of thought.Β go ahead.Β speak your mind. β
healingΒ andΒ enduringΒ Β .Β Β .Β Β .Β Β toΒ himΒ ,Β twoΒ totallyΒ differentΒ conceptsΒ .Β
βΒ stillΒ .Β iΒ justΒ Β -Β Β βΒ Β [Β Β .Β Β .Β Β .Β Β ]Β Β βΒ Β neverΒ mindΒ .Β β
" ππ , πππ ππππ ππππππππ. how was your day, sephiroth ? would you indulge me with your tales ? " // @wingedcruelty
" πππ ππππππ πππ ππππ ππ πππ πππ ππππ. and so far, you have endured well. " // @meteorea
* ππππππ . // @re-no
ππ πππ ππππππ πππ ππππππππ , πππ ππππππ ππ πππππππ ππππ , ππ ππππππππ πππππ , ππ πππ πππππ πππππππ ππππ ππππππ πππππ. Β Β Β it was always the trails of her fingerprints, evidence of applying the remedies upon open wounds crying another resinβs ooze.Β always sitting close and being accompanied by herbal scents or alcohol bottles.Β nursing was her own love language. Β adore her, adorn her with the stains of your regret, the dried smear of radiant spider-lily bloom.Β by her sneaky beneficence did honey-gold glisten all over the sullying hues, forced itself onto your pallor with a warmth that, she had forgotten, would prompt your outlines to instinctively jolt.Β β ey, luna ! β Β you blurted out, your treated shoulder flinched, your spine tensed up in a straight line, your brain rang the alarm for what careless thing she attempted. Β β i told you not to do that. βΒ and she blinked thrice, pursed her lips in surprise, chuckled then, picturing your pout turned towards the wall, away from her, away from the selfless creature she was supposed to portray. Β
and itβs been difficult to look at, has it not ?Β difficult to refuse it, to disdain it. Β that terrible, angelic, woe-devouring thing that would conveniently not memorize your wishes.Β you, at her mercy, and she possessed too easy an unspeakable power, unnatural but right just how it should be and how it always was.Β it was always the patching, the undressing and dressing of a burning spot, the mercy at which the beast growled beneath her hands caressing the beauty marks. Β β oh, pray forgive me.Β a force of habit, you know.Β it is not easy to keep in mind that youβd prefer to suffer and complain. βΒ all the remark in good jest, but it failed at convincingly delivering the actual apology.Β ( please, turn to me again when all is said and done, i did not mean it.Β )Β Β
would you keep your anger in your mouth for the next hour, for the rest of the day, had she succeeded to take your pain ?Β why were you so greedy with it, what did you hoard it for ?Β hurt was no treasure, it was just hurt.Β or was the treasure golden and you did not want it ?Β never one to be able to rationalize the agreement between you and her, the side-note embedded between the lines, she simply sighed and kept tending to the cuts serving as the cause of refuge sought in the most empty inn to be booked within the next radius of a mile.Β the sun now hung low to the point it dimmed out the reminders.Β she raised from the couch and played god, the candlewick on, the darkness off.Β she sat back again behind the subject who did not ask for more miracles, and after brief inspection of her hard work would a larger band aid be seized, planted over the marrings.Β the long pause nestled within the dialogue fell apart with a delayed answer, whisperingΒ β itβs not about that. β Β and she, smiling, said : Β β i know β¦ Β i know. β of course. of course, it's not about that. it's you not wanting her to hurt. it's you wanting the hurt to be a one-way-street.
we have known it as second nature to this woe-devouring thing for her to adore and be adored.Β in truth, it frightened her to not see the limits of it.Β it frightened her to have seen it in the spilt blood she dreamed of, it frightened her to see so much red that was both hers, on paper, and not.Β it frightened her so much she would let her lips sink to your pain and hurt and ached to still take it but β she kissed it worse, instead.Β she hurt you more, and would keep hurting you and realized what she had done, realized that the stain of regret would've always been red, oozing from the patch, limbs stitched together, her cold cheek pressed against your shoulder-blade, her heart slipping from her open mouth.Β β it wonβt happen again. βΒ
please, turn to face me, will you ?Β even when i lie.
πππ ππππππ-πππππ πππππππ πππ π ππ πππ πππππππππ, πππ πππππ πππππππππ πππππππ πππ.Β Β within eons, they dwindled away like a flame sunken into candle wax, and it proved as a scarcity of occurrence, indeed, to find them among the rubble of ruins.Β she would join the half-grave of this withering, arid earth only to find a little sprout.Β thusly, beside you, she kneeled to examine further, wondrous and keen, an unintended mimicry.Β Β β the pleasure is mine, marlene.Β i am lunafreya, or luna if you prefer to shorten. βΒ Β even the hound barked in greeting, his sister a silent observer to a ghost communing with a child.Β Β β how come you are all alone here, are you waiting for someone ? β
Though the child somehow feels eyes staring in her direction, she does not turn her gaze away as she eagerly awaits a reply. Once she hears the woman's confirmation, she can't help gleam happily. "Really?"
Only a single word in spoken, but the way her happiness takes over the atmosphere speaks volumes. She doesn't seem to look around her, completely oblivious to the result of her excitedly raising her voice.
"Umbra..." She repeats, looking in the dog's direction. Before even approaching the dog, she carefully extends her hand towards him.
"It's nice to meet you. My name is Marlene."
ππππππππ ππππππππ πππ πππππππππ ππππππ , ππππππππππππππππ ππ ππππππππππππ πππ , ππππ πππ ππππ π ππ πππππππππ ππππππ.Β Β a specter fragment transcending beyond gaia's memoria, she should not be perceivable and, of course, you noticed this not.Β alike any other maiden among the living was she so meekly approached ;Β her and her canine companions, harbingers of a promised place.Β without the almost-touch upon the dark hound would its ears perk in anticipation, and she so encouragingly gestured for affirmation.Β Β " of course, little one, you may.Β it appears he likes you.Β his name is umbra. β curiosity piqued for the mere fact of this exchange, she rarely believed in pure happenstance.
@moonichor / have a cute thing you didn't ask for.
Almost too happily, the child starts to reach out towards the unfamiliar dog she spots, only to pull her hand back before her fingers reach soft fur.
Almost shyly, she seeks some approval in doing so with a simple question.
"Hey miss...? Is it okay to pet your doggy...?"