The Portal
From beneath a shameful veil of white lashes, Lothíriel observed her brother processing the declaration she had made; shades of sadness made his black face blue, and his eyes, ever like twin lapis, avoided her gaze. Would he curse her name, cast her away? she wondered—grief had a strange way of conjuring djins and ghosts from the saintliest of individuals. If he did, she wouldn't have blamed him, but before her mind could conjure any more strangling machinations, however, Erebos favored her with a statement that made the silk noose of guilt grasp ever tighter around her throat. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, the silver nymph held her tongue, silencing the words her heart desperately wanted to say for the sake of familial peace. It had been a dark day the last time she had seen their mother, in a scene not unlike the one they inhabited presently. Perhaps there was a kernel of truth in Erebos' words (I'm sure it wasn't your fault), but when you could have done something to prevent the loss of a loved one and you don't, doesn't the blame shift to your own laden shoulders? If Lothíriel had learned anything about life, it was that homecomings and reunions were always shortlived. As if happiness were sand running through her fingers, every portent Erebos brought her caused another grain to scatter in the wind. Her florid eyes watched him intently as he delivered every statement, widening with horror as the next one was revealed. "Gods," she swore, wondering if it was blasphemy if they were dead. Rain continued pattering against their blue bodies, droplets rolling down fur darkened with water. Despite a sense of foreboding which crept into the very fluid in her spine, the nymphet continued listening to her brother, dread weighting her heart like so many golden coins on an avaricious scale. He moved closer to her, looking ever more distraught—Lothíriel could see her own reflection staring back at her in the pools of his eyes. Something seized in the pit of her stomach; she knew what he was going to say before he said it. For a moment, she stood in absolute silence, standing so still it seemed as if every atom that composed her halted its respective vibrations. Finally after what seemed like eons, she moved despite the numbness that stiffened her muscles, pressing herself against her brother's reassuringly warm body. At least he was alive—she could feel his heart beating relentlessly as if daring fate, pumping the blue blood they shared. Were they the very last ones of their line? With mother and father gone, as well as their cousin Ode, they had no other family but themselves. "May he rest in peace," shemurmured, looking out into the foreboding darkness of the wood. She didn't even cry; the rain did it for her, grieving with more tears that she could ever hope to produce. Was this what emptiness felt like? The lilac girl just felt like a hollow vessel only meant to be filled with rainwater, counting every droplet as another hope dashed, another dream dissolved into the vast ocean of life. Their father, the Reaper, the sentinel of her girlhood, the king of her heart—dead. The concept felt so surreal, so wrong; it all felt like some neverending bad dream. Would anyone ever care to wake her? Erebos informed her of the ones who survived, and the wings of hope fluttered feebly in her chest. Rikyn—she remembered the charming boy fondly; his bravado had impressed her then, when she was still half-grown and more prone to the whims and fancies of maidens. How is he now? she wonders, trying to imagine his boyish smirk on a man's face. The others she did not know as well, but the memory of their faces made her braver, if a little. "Do you know anything about this place?" she inquired, the note of hope in her voice sounding ugly and contrived, falling flat against the desperate sadness she felt. Perhaps they could build a home from the ashes of their dead home. If Lothíriel knew anything, it was that they had to go on and forge new lives in this strange place; they owed as much to their lord father and his rain nymph. |
@Erebos
here have this ugly 10PM post :|
