Twilight and Shadow

lorcanofeath:

The silence had lasted quite a long time. Of course, he would’ve told her how he’d done much of nothing since they had talked. Though he knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. He did not want to let her know how much her behaviour was also affecting him as well. No, that wouldn’t do. 

It would’ve been a short conversation anyway, just him going to classes and seeing the wolves. Not much else. Hamish had been around a few times when he wasn’t busy with Nia and Lucinda had troubles of her own. His brow furrowed as she made to say something. Could she want to talk about things? Maybe tell him what was actually wrong?

No, no, it wasn’t fair. Nothing ever went their way it seemed. Whether by blood nor the cruel jape of the Gods, they could truly never have happiness it seemed. “Gone...” He whispered, knowing what she meant, though that was a hard word, ‘dead’, gone was much better. It was what he’d told her all those years ago, ‘Mama and papa are gone, Shershie.’

Gone, was a kinder word.

Though it had not made it easier, Lady, her little bird was gone, from this world or the castle it made no matter, just gone. He saw the grief, and it made sense, this had to be why she was so distraught. Lorcan had promised that she’d fly one day…He wanted to say something, but nothing came out except a strangled word. ‘Sorry.’ No, he couldn’t say that, but this was his little sister, and she was hurt, she’d lost a pet. “Saoirse….” He sighed, eyes wide as he looked up. 

The sky was dull, though the sun managed to shine through the clouds. “Did…Did you bury her?” He tried to imagine what she was feeling, trying to imagine what it would be like if he had lost Summer, or Grey Wind, or even Nymeria. It wasn’t the same, manufactured grief never was, though Lorcan genuinely liked the bird, she had been a kind spirit, and it seemed as if she liked him well enough. 

She blinked. Bit her lip until she could faintly taste blood. She let it relish; lingering in her mouth. She took a deep breathe. Almost out of relief; thankful that Lorcan knew what she meant without saying. How can she expect anything else from him? She’d say she was fine and even then she knew how Lorcan would react - force a grin if need be, and never touch on the subject again because avoiding it and pretending was better than facing it. Different as they were; this was how they both reacted to things. This was how they dealt with everything - in stories, in false pretences, in their heads… in childish make-believes, dissimulations, the false fronts. 

“The other day…,” she said. She sounded like she was choking. She coughed; clearing her throat. That wasn’t what Lorcan was asking. He asked if he buried her and she was loosing track of it. She nodded in reply to him and said, “Yeah. I did.”

And then she shook her head, and with all that she could she managed a small smile - as painful as it was; and as impossible as it seemed. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him… Lorcan knew what /gone/ meant. She should have said Lady had flown away; left her… “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s fine.” She repeated the phrase. - as though she was reminding herself; as though it wasn’t really something directed to Lorcan. “Really.” She paused and shrugged. “We all die.”

Twilight and Shadow

lorcanofeath:

It wouldn’t be that simple for her to just tell him what was wrong. No, Saoirse had never been one for having heart-to-hearts, just as Lorcan wasn’t. He was concerned, but if she would have him believe that she was ‘fine’ then he could do that. He could, just until she was ready to tell him, if she ever was.

…How was he? Interesting question to say the least, though it wasn’t difficult to answer. “I’m fine.” He nodded, pulling on a smile that was small. He was, if truth be told, despite the hole that seemed to be dwelling within him. He could cover it up, and ignore it, as he always did and just be. He wanted that more than anything; to just be.

The wind picked up, warm and light in the air, it rustled the leaves and Nymeria’s fur, “Don’t be sorry, eh? Okay, you have things to do, I understand.” Though he really didn’t, they used to be so close, but now that had fallen away. No more secrets were holding their bond together, and that seemed to be the only thing that ever kept them as close as they were. The secrets, were like a viel that they could safely hide behind and everything was alright, and perfect. Normal. Without it, it became annoyingly apparent how different they were, and how it would never be what it once was. 

Of course, Lorcan hoped. He hoped that there would be one day in the future, when he didn’t see the vacancy in his sister’s eye, or her barely visible flinching at his calling, ‘Shershie.’ 

…Or the lack of things to do. She knew he was lying - no, not lying, she thought. He wasn’t lying. He was just diverging from the truth and making things better than they actually were. She had things to do, according to him, and that sounded a lot better than saying that she didn’t have anything to do and was just avoiding him all together. Because being apparently busy was a more legitimate reason why she hadn’t seen him than being not busy at all. 

And then silence. In the moment of silence, it became apparent to the both of them the gap and distance that they’ve created. And what worried Saoirse at that moment was in wondering if that gap should ever close itself and they would be back to just being the way they used to be; before the secrets got out. Maybe they were just pretending… the both of them. It’s what they do best.

She cleared her throat as she looked back up at him. She was fine. He was fine. They were both fine. (But not really, she knew that much for certain) Her plan to turn the conversation to him had sorely failed. She was hoping he’d tell her of the things he’d done in the past several days and she’d listen. She wouldn’t have to talk and that was good enough for her.

“Um,” she said - the humming sound of her voice was broke the silence between the two of them. She opened her mouth trying to look for the words to say. “Lady… she…” She paused for a moment. Died, she thought to herself but she couldn’t say that. “She’s…gone,” she managed, slowly.

(Source: farnaud)

(Source: stonehearting)

have i found you, flightless bird, jealous, weeping, or lost you? | open

mulciber-daniel:

All songs end. Even the most beautiful songs had to end. For a moment, he almost pitied the girl. For a moment, he wanted to share her grief. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. But he looked at her, at the way her shoulders drooped slightly with the weight of the box she held. Mulciber looked at her and he didn’t want to hurt her. He knew he would only be a petty thing next to her grief.

He walked slowly with her, but it was not the sunset he saw anymore. It was not even the girl. He saw a coffin. He saw white, white hands folded on top of a breastbone. Had they ever been that white before? He wasn’t sure. After all, it was his first time seeing her in person. Her hair spread out on the pillow, a halo for her in death. She was still beautiful. Even lifeless. Even pale, death-pale, she was beautiful.

He tore himself from the memory when they stopped. He wasn’t supposed to think about that. He looked at the girl to distract himself. For a moment, he wondered what she was looking for and then he understood. He nodded. Even had he not wanted to, he would have. He would have because those hollow eyes had filled with longing and he understood. He understood and he wanted to help, just once, give her what she wanted. She might never get what she longed for again.

“Of course. Of course.” Mulciber nodded, pulling out his wand. “Where?”

She kept walking as though they were a reply to his question. Where? She didn’t really know where and instead let her legs guide her under a dying tree. It was tall but not as tall as the other trees. Its branches hunched over, dangling lifelessly and barren despite the coming of spring time. “Here, I guess,” she said, brushing the soil with the bottom of her feet. It was rough against her skin, not like the way the grass felt. 

She froze; holding the box farther away from her as she lay it on the ground. She remembered the day when her parents died; remember the way her last words to her parents sounded so bitter and irritated. There was the slam of the door and the faint footsteps against the gravel pavement just outside. She remembered the day they were buried. She didn’t cry. She didn’t cry even then as she placed the box on the floor; didn’t cry at the idea of the death. 

But she wanted to cry. And yet she couldn’t force herself; not back when she was four, even not now.

“Um…” she said, her voice was soft. She turned around, look at the other person and forced a small, sad smile. “Thank you, by the way.”

(Source: saoirsedeath)