The Portal
07-20-2017, 09:31 PM
Something warped, something decrepit, curled along her spine, and she fought to tug her sister closer, to evade the oncoming storm, to shirk and hide before it became misery – it stifled down in her lungs, clawed and grasped, nipped and tore from within. It seemed to rest there, depraved and alone, a singular essence of vile torrents and debauched decadence, stuck to her heart, until Sila began reaching for her in a rush of feathers and sparks. Melita breathed easier then, (didn’t tell her kin; kept it locked away, hidden) but it was all so strange, all so alarming, all so horrifying – but she couldn’t show Clementine her fear, her apprehension, the stifling, unwavering trepidation flowing through her, shaking her to the very snippets of her soul. She wanted her mother, gentle and comforting, strong and warm. She wanted her sister to be safe, secure, and whole. She wanted the nightmares to stop clinging to her thoughts, for the images to bleed away, for the terrifying lilt of death and desecration to peel off into the abyss, never to return (but they’d all gone too far, seen too much, and she knew, deep in the strings, the threads, of her existence, that there was no going back). So she fought and fought and fought, because it was all she knew, all she understood, to stay afloat, to not shake, to not shudder, to not rattle and flutter in the violent wind.
But her first wish didn’t come true. Clem’s words echo within her ears in tiny, heedless beats (hoping Mama was with you), and she instantly wondered if she’d made a mistake, caused an error, evaded and escaped without looking back to see where their beautiful mother had gone, if she was supposed to have followed or arrived earlier or found her in the midst of all these broken tides. The panic unsettled her, the rawness, the notion of being alone with no adult to guide them, with no loved one showing them the way (wherever that happened to me; everything was a mystery, a shadow, a beacon towards enigmas). The Throat had been full of elders and warriors, beasts who could unleash righteous fury, bestial annihilation, and here, here they had no one to run to, nowhere to hide, no great monsters ready and eager to fight other fiends and cretins.
She’d keep Clem safe though. It was her only pledge, her only assurance, echoing right from the chambers of her fierce, ferocious heart.
“I’m sorry,” Melita admitted, and apologies were hard when there was naught else for them to stand on but the weight of misery and melancholy; a drugged, dragged soulless enterprise she didn’t want to murmur again. “I didn’t see where she went.” She should’ve looked, should’ve glanced, should’ve chased after – and she ground her teeth in frustration, furrowing her brows and only daring to peek her twin’s shoulder, staring at the ground in disbelief of her own ineptitude. “We’ll find her,” she replied, in a stronger, forceful tone (it relished a savage quality, an oath made from steel and not silk).
They only pulled away when another noise trumpeted through the surroundings. Hope of all hopes had buoyed (because maybe it was their dam after all!), and then plummeted at the heavy accent, at the unknown, foreign decibels and sounds. She turned her head regardless, half dreading the notion of more beasts lurking in the dark, and half curious, a bottled up flame of inquiry hastened amidst her form. “Who are you?” The child called out in return, a voice woven with too many thoughts and too many feelings.
But her first wish didn’t come true. Clem’s words echo within her ears in tiny, heedless beats (hoping Mama was with you), and she instantly wondered if she’d made a mistake, caused an error, evaded and escaped without looking back to see where their beautiful mother had gone, if she was supposed to have followed or arrived earlier or found her in the midst of all these broken tides. The panic unsettled her, the rawness, the notion of being alone with no adult to guide them, with no loved one showing them the way (wherever that happened to me; everything was a mystery, a shadow, a beacon towards enigmas). The Throat had been full of elders and warriors, beasts who could unleash righteous fury, bestial annihilation, and here, here they had no one to run to, nowhere to hide, no great monsters ready and eager to fight other fiends and cretins.
She’d keep Clem safe though. It was her only pledge, her only assurance, echoing right from the chambers of her fierce, ferocious heart.
“I’m sorry,” Melita admitted, and apologies were hard when there was naught else for them to stand on but the weight of misery and melancholy; a drugged, dragged soulless enterprise she didn’t want to murmur again. “I didn’t see where she went.” She should’ve looked, should’ve glanced, should’ve chased after – and she ground her teeth in frustration, furrowing her brows and only daring to peek her twin’s shoulder, staring at the ground in disbelief of her own ineptitude. “We’ll find her,” she replied, in a stronger, forceful tone (it relished a savage quality, an oath made from steel and not silk).
They only pulled away when another noise trumpeted through the surroundings. Hope of all hopes had buoyed (because maybe it was their dam after all!), and then plummeted at the heavy accent, at the unknown, foreign decibels and sounds. She turned her head regardless, half dreading the notion of more beasts lurking in the dark, and half curious, a bottled up flame of inquiry hastened amidst her form. “Who are you?” The child called out in return, a voice woven with too many thoughts and too many feelings.
Melita
the fires found a home in me
@Yael @Clementine
