[ — what misery he feels, in the wake of the Oracle, dashes like ceramic on stone, dropped from numb hands. His mind slips, dragged across sands to the barren, frozen portions of her mind where she screams like a banshee and unwillingly bares her pain, her shame, for him to see. Someone has her, and they are causing her pain. More pain, than she has already undergone. He thinks ( i warned you / i told you you were too brittle, too quick, too unprepared / i told you not to pursue it until you were prepared ) — no. No, he does not think of the things he has told himself in the dark of night, he simply acts.
Across the boundary of their minds, he leaps. Bare feet in the snows of her mountain range of a mind, fingers slipping across dark stone as he bounds higher. Higher into the peaks and crevasses of how she presents herself, a lightless and barren place, frost killing the ground where things could grow. Even in the wake of him, pulling the warmth of Ra's sun and the arid heat of the desert, he knows he will not find purchase beyond what she can allow. Still, he mounts the peaks. He searches for the dark caverns she had mentioned before, the places she had warned him not to go wandering in search of, without her ( guidance ) approval.
He knows the smile that bears down upon her ( ah, sebastian ), and that Hayame's life is not endangered. Her sanity, however, is. And he rushes into the dark of the cavern with naught but the ends of his hair and tips of his limbs alight with inner light, ten and a thousand points of white-hot brilliance that illuminate his path as he searches for her. For the dark place inside of her, combing through the cavern, combing through to the hidden place where —
a trickster god was a trickster, not because they were solely capricious and untamed, but because they brought something that was forbidden. He brings forbidden light to Hayame, the warmth of the sun across her underbelly, the crisp clarity of the blue-tinged sands at night — life, that still exists in barren places. He drapes it into her cold mind, into the pain. He brings the memory of laughter to the broken memory that pours into her own. The sensation of running on four limbs, hair and tail streaming like a flag. The rush of please, yes and how very, very in love he had been with her form. With wearing it.
He slips alongside her mind, where he can. Fits his fingers into the grooves she has laid out for him, wavering and untrusting as she is — and he sinks his hands into the cold rock of her darkest parts. I'm here, I see your pain. I wear it with you. ( Screaming, broken women bare their teeth and rend their clothes as they're slaughtered, abused. Decrying him as he opens himself to their pain, to what he's caused them. ) Darkness builds across his skin, crackling fever that snaps bone and seizes his throat as he tries, oh he tries, to tug part of Hayame's soul back to him. Some pained part he can tear free of her struggle and shelter, using his curse as a lifeline to bring SOME part of her back to him. Something he can wrap in his arms, something he can protect. ]
HERE WE GO, cw a little victim blaming, violence against women
i warned you / i told you you were too brittle, too quick, too unprepared / i told you not to pursue it until you were prepared) — no. No, he does not think of the things he has told himself in the dark of night, he simply acts.Across the boundary of their minds, he leaps. Bare feet in the snows of her mountain range of a mind, fingers slipping across dark stone as he bounds higher. Higher into the peaks and crevasses of how she presents herself, a lightless and barren place, frost killing the ground where things could grow. Even in the wake of him, pulling the warmth of Ra's sun and the arid heat of the desert, he knows he will not find purchase beyond what she can allow. Still, he mounts the peaks. He searches for the dark caverns she had mentioned before, the places she had warned him not to go wandering in search of, without her ( guidance ) approval.
He knows the smile that bears down upon her ( ah, sebastian ), and that Hayame's life is not endangered. Her sanity, however, is. And he rushes into the dark of the cavern with naught but the ends of his hair and tips of his limbs alight with inner light, ten and a thousand points of white-hot brilliance that illuminate his path as he searches for her. For the dark place inside of her, combing through the cavern, combing through to the hidden place where —
a trickster god was a trickster, not because they were solely capricious and untamed, but because they brought something that was forbidden. He brings forbidden light to Hayame, the warmth of the sun across her underbelly, the crisp clarity of the blue-tinged sands at night — life, that still exists in barren places. He drapes it into her cold mind, into the pain. He brings the memory of laughter to the broken memory that pours into her own. The sensation of running on four limbs, hair and tail streaming like a flag. The rush of please, yes and how very, very in love he had been with her form. With wearing it.
He slips alongside her mind, where he can. Fits his fingers into the grooves she has laid out for him, wavering and untrusting as she is — and he sinks his hands into the cold rock of her darkest parts. I'm here, I see your pain. I wear it with you. ( Screaming, broken women bare their teeth and rend their clothes as they're slaughtered, abused. Decrying him as he opens himself to their pain, to what he's caused them. ) Darkness builds across his skin, crackling fever that snaps bone and seizes his throat as he tries, oh he tries, to tug part of Hayame's soul back to him. Some pained part he can tear free of her struggle and shelter, using his curse as a lifeline to bring SOME part of her back to him. Something he can wrap in his arms, something he can protect. ]