05-26-2019, 03:10 PM
Shame swelled, and Tristan shuffled as though his tail tucked between his legs. He had promised to stay with Nimeda, and required the same commitment of her in return, yet upon first distraction, sprinted in the chase of an enemy. These things, whatever they were, crawled through the walls but their shadows remained black on his heart. He feared them to the bone though he did not understand why.
The girl on the bed was veiled with twin lights: darkness and brightness colliding. Even as his golden eyes, so keen in the dark, studied her, she was nearly impossible to truly see. Was the girl an enemy or an ally? Tristan sniffed deeply on the air, but the scents swirled confusing as his emotions. Nimeda called her friend, and she was in dire need of liberty, but Tristan was wary none the less.
He entered her room as though cautious of bears hiding deep in the den. “You’re locked in a psychiatric hospital,” he restated for her. Nimeda hadn’t explained that, but howls of warnings told him Mara was dangerous. He shook his head, snarling defiance at condemnation for being what one was born to. He stepped closer, forcing himself to focus upon the light that drenched the half of Mara’s soul that he could see. Darkness stirred also, things of nightmare and horror, but the same also echoed in his own. Monsters, trolls, nightmares and death – such hellish beings were his kin.
He found himself kneeling at the edge of her bed, looking through the veil of her hair and seeking Mara’s eyes. “You are not insane,” he told her, “Neither is Nimeda and nor am I. We become what the world wills for us if we are not steadfast. The blood of monsters course my veins, but that does not make me a monster. Mara, you must learn to bend the dark to your will or you will fall to shadow and be what they fear you to be,” a toothy smile followed, “then again, maybe the world deserves it.”
It felt like an alliance formed between them. Three demons of myth gathered to right the wrongs levelled against them.
The girl on the bed was veiled with twin lights: darkness and brightness colliding. Even as his golden eyes, so keen in the dark, studied her, she was nearly impossible to truly see. Was the girl an enemy or an ally? Tristan sniffed deeply on the air, but the scents swirled confusing as his emotions. Nimeda called her friend, and she was in dire need of liberty, but Tristan was wary none the less.
He entered her room as though cautious of bears hiding deep in the den. “You’re locked in a psychiatric hospital,” he restated for her. Nimeda hadn’t explained that, but howls of warnings told him Mara was dangerous. He shook his head, snarling defiance at condemnation for being what one was born to. He stepped closer, forcing himself to focus upon the light that drenched the half of Mara’s soul that he could see. Darkness stirred also, things of nightmare and horror, but the same also echoed in his own. Monsters, trolls, nightmares and death – such hellish beings were his kin.
He found himself kneeling at the edge of her bed, looking through the veil of her hair and seeking Mara’s eyes. “You are not insane,” he told her, “Neither is Nimeda and nor am I. We become what the world wills for us if we are not steadfast. The blood of monsters course my veins, but that does not make me a monster. Mara, you must learn to bend the dark to your will or you will fall to shadow and be what they fear you to be,” a toothy smile followed, “then again, maybe the world deserves it.”
It felt like an alliance formed between them. Three demons of myth gathered to right the wrongs levelled against them.