The Portal
07-17-2017, 04:13 PM
tags & things --
I am caught up in mourning, weeping for everything that I had lost and the guilt that pierces through my heart, that crushed me beneath the pressures of living alone. As far as I know, there is no one left, not my mother, not Aurelia or Alala, not the Throat, all of Helovia has perished and as far as I know, I am the Last. I do not hear the soft whispers of reunited families, of long lost souls finding the courage to return to the light of reality, to be seen by brothers and sisters, by lovers and friends - it is silent, the rush of blood in my ears and the thunder of my heart is all that surrounds me, deafening as I shroud myself in my wings, sheltering myself from the world in the same way my mother used to. It brings comfort, a familiar touch of a feathered appendage as it drapes over my body, shields me from the dangers of the outside world.
And that is how I am found, in response to the panicked, confused hello? That I had offered, I received one in return. I cannot tell whether it is relief or disappointment that makes its way to my face, breathing out because I am not alone, not the last to walk across the world in absolute silence, but it is a voice I do not recognize, and my heart is sinking because I am the only one left. There is no one here who will know me, who will understand the pain that I suffer, shouldering the weight of my guilt and mourning because I am the only one who can. There is no shoulder to cry on when I am completely alone in this world, when I am an unknown face to the world. No one will remember me from when I was but a colt clinging to my dam's leg out of fear of the danger outside of the Throat. And this voice is unfamiliar, certainly not someone I can recall from the briefest time I spent in Helovia, much less outside the Throat's borders.
I clear my throat, trying to push aside the sorrow that tenses up my shoulders and grips my heart as I give her a pitiful introduction. "Shahrokh. I- I was from Helovia," I pause to let myself breathe before I continue. "Were you there when everything happened? Di-" I cut myself off because I couldn't bother to ask if she had seen my mother somehow make it through the portal, if she truly had decided that she would follow me into the unknown rather than cling to the last moments of her homeland (it was my homeland too) - but it felt too hopeless of a question, because I already knew she wouldn't have seen her come through, if she was even there to witness Helovia's final moments. My mother would have stayed, she would have clung to Helovia's soil and bellowed her rage, her guilt and the fear that tore through her in her own final moments, in stride with Helovia's as it crumbled around her.
I stiffened at the approach of one more, this presence cast in a vicious, warlike aura, strong, hardened, it was callous and aggressive. The girl spoke weakly, a shred of joy, of relief that slips from her lips, souring, turning bitter as something process and I am recoiling at her tone. She is an unpredictable storm, one moment melting with the mistake of someone she has found someone she has been looking for, and suddenly she's a cornered animal, she's threatened and mistaken, she lashing out and then crashing, the pouring rain that beats against my skin during heavy storms, the pain of pieces being stripped away, slowly, painfully. I gingerly stand on weak legs, I do not attempt to approach (in part of because I don't know where she is), whispering quietly, cooing something soothing in the same way my mother sometimes would when everything felt like too much, when I never felt like I was enough. "It's okay, you're going to be okay. You'll make it through this," perhaps it was more for myself than anyone else, but I paraded about pretending that I was trying to help her rather than myself.
Because I wanted to believe that I was okay, that I would make it through this, that I would survive in this foreign world, but doubts overflowing my mind and I was lost to their depths. I was eaten up by the anxiety, I was drowning in pitch black, in emotion that clawed through my sides, that left me choking and lightheaded, that left me drifting, no longer grounded to the world I once knew. My binds to reality were slipping and I was being left to collapse, to fall apart inside as a shell presents itself to eager eyes outside - I just wanted my mother, just wanted someone to recognize who I was, to reassure me that I truly was Shahrokh, a child of Destry and Aurelia, twin to Alala. That I was the only one left of my family, that I was the last, that my blood was stained with gold fire and lightning, that I was a lone fiery storm walking among men.
“talk talk talk.”
I am caught up in mourning, weeping for everything that I had lost and the guilt that pierces through my heart, that crushed me beneath the pressures of living alone. As far as I know, there is no one left, not my mother, not Aurelia or Alala, not the Throat, all of Helovia has perished and as far as I know, I am the Last. I do not hear the soft whispers of reunited families, of long lost souls finding the courage to return to the light of reality, to be seen by brothers and sisters, by lovers and friends - it is silent, the rush of blood in my ears and the thunder of my heart is all that surrounds me, deafening as I shroud myself in my wings, sheltering myself from the world in the same way my mother used to. It brings comfort, a familiar touch of a feathered appendage as it drapes over my body, shields me from the dangers of the outside world.
And that is how I am found, in response to the panicked, confused hello? That I had offered, I received one in return. I cannot tell whether it is relief or disappointment that makes its way to my face, breathing out because I am not alone, not the last to walk across the world in absolute silence, but it is a voice I do not recognize, and my heart is sinking because I am the only one left. There is no one here who will know me, who will understand the pain that I suffer, shouldering the weight of my guilt and mourning because I am the only one who can. There is no shoulder to cry on when I am completely alone in this world, when I am an unknown face to the world. No one will remember me from when I was but a colt clinging to my dam's leg out of fear of the danger outside of the Throat. And this voice is unfamiliar, certainly not someone I can recall from the briefest time I spent in Helovia, much less outside the Throat's borders.
I clear my throat, trying to push aside the sorrow that tenses up my shoulders and grips my heart as I give her a pitiful introduction. "Shahrokh. I- I was from Helovia," I pause to let myself breathe before I continue. "Were you there when everything happened? Di-" I cut myself off because I couldn't bother to ask if she had seen my mother somehow make it through the portal, if she truly had decided that she would follow me into the unknown rather than cling to the last moments of her homeland (it was my homeland too) - but it felt too hopeless of a question, because I already knew she wouldn't have seen her come through, if she was even there to witness Helovia's final moments. My mother would have stayed, she would have clung to Helovia's soil and bellowed her rage, her guilt and the fear that tore through her in her own final moments, in stride with Helovia's as it crumbled around her.
I stiffened at the approach of one more, this presence cast in a vicious, warlike aura, strong, hardened, it was callous and aggressive. The girl spoke weakly, a shred of joy, of relief that slips from her lips, souring, turning bitter as something process and I am recoiling at her tone. She is an unpredictable storm, one moment melting with the mistake of someone she has found someone she has been looking for, and suddenly she's a cornered animal, she's threatened and mistaken, she lashing out and then crashing, the pouring rain that beats against my skin during heavy storms, the pain of pieces being stripped away, slowly, painfully. I gingerly stand on weak legs, I do not attempt to approach (in part of because I don't know where she is), whispering quietly, cooing something soothing in the same way my mother sometimes would when everything felt like too much, when I never felt like I was enough. "It's okay, you're going to be okay. You'll make it through this," perhaps it was more for myself than anyone else, but I paraded about pretending that I was trying to help her rather than myself.
Because I wanted to believe that I was okay, that I would make it through this, that I would survive in this foreign world, but doubts overflowing my mind and I was lost to their depths. I was eaten up by the anxiety, I was drowning in pitch black, in emotion that clawed through my sides, that left me choking and lightheaded, that left me drifting, no longer grounded to the world I once knew. My binds to reality were slipping and I was being left to collapse, to fall apart inside as a shell presents itself to eager eyes outside - I just wanted my mother, just wanted someone to recognize who I was, to reassure me that I truly was Shahrokh, a child of Destry and Aurelia, twin to Alala. That I was the only one left of my family, that I was the last, that my blood was stained with gold fire and lightning, that I was a lone fiery storm walking among men.
“talk talk talk.”
-- table by velvette --
@Dallilja
this is the world as i see it now,
turns out nothing is fair
