| Subject: ..behind cealed lids.. |
Author:
Fajarah
|
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Date Posted: 20:49:04 08/04/02 Sun
In reply to:
mirage of dreams
's message, ".|.look what i've done.|." on 19:29:37 08/04/02 Sun
((OOC - Expressing the usually unexpressed, here you can see her mind work, listen to her thoughts. This is a rare occassion, indeed.. reply wisely. Not every bitchy mare is as they are, on the inside, benieth the skin.. so yeah, this is OOC just a tad, but it's important to be able to understand..))
..i am to go, then.. don't go! after coming so far, breaking the vow of silence, appearing within the light of day.. will you dishonour your sacrifices? ..i have no place here. i am disowned. disnamed. ..footsteps.. control, control.. concentrate, don't let yourself go with it. ..unshodden hoof is lifted and struck upon flint, sparks flying, willowy frame shuddering for unwilled breath intake as fore is pressed harder upon silvery scar intertwined chest.. cease of footsteps, and a pause.. silence. why is she just standing there?! ..she's laughing at you, silently, all you need do is open your eyes and you will be able to see it in her eyes. and then, that's it, there is no more reason to live. prepare yourself.. lids open a hair's width to take into vision the thick curtain of not yet unfurled lashes and a crack of light. slow, shaking intake of breath stings burning lungs as head lifts sharply and suddenly, gaze snapping upon the form of mother. unflustered, stare is coolly met though body still quivers and spasams with withheld rage and grief.. lips part to spit a harsh word and muscels tense and bunch, ready to make a hasty retreat, as the sound of a voice shatters sufficating silence..
..unexpected.. when you plan ahead, sometimes you are forced to make a raindate.. even the weather man is wrong at times.. angel was parylized, wings lifeless, and a fall had stirred new thoughts and emotions.. the carefully planned comeback was dashed, and now, unprepared, there was nothing to say at all.. and everything to say at once. so nothing was said. though many things were expressed, searchingly, experimentally, through the edge melting ice of arctic gaze. liquid, now, eyes grow voulnerable, tender, questioning trust..
..the window to one's soul is through one's eyes..
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