Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster
Shifter
~Being broken is simply the first step to being fixed~
Posts: 20 
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Post by Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster on Mar 20, 2015 23:26:34 GMT
 like a soul mate, he's your penguin Love like this only comes once, baby it's fate. Like a soul mate, he's your penguin. Baby it's fate, baby it's fate, not luck. Let go, let go of time for you and I. Let go, let go of time for you and I.
It had been months since she watched the light die from her beloved's eye. Months since she had left him. Months since her heart had died. But it felt like years since then. They had promised each other to love each other forever, but forever had not been enough... not for her. He had passed on without her. Left to see the chubby faces of their offspring. Of him. He was watching over her and she knew it.. but sometimes it wasn't enough. She loved him too greatly to let him go. Loved him too much to let his sweet soul pass on to happier places. Maybe that was a good thing. He would no longer know sadness or the feeling of an outcast. No longer feel the insatiable need to die, he was at peace... even if it meant... she wasn't in the picture with him. He was in better places and yet who could blame her for missing him? The poor man had always wanted the sunshine, whether he knew it or not. And when that... that damn mutt had torn his throat out... was the ultimate price. For her. She had hesitated too long. Let herself crumble there rather than rushing for his aid. If she had reacted sooner... he might be alive. He might of gotten to see their children grow up like towering flowers in the sunlight. Yet he made her promise she wouldn't blame herself... but how could she not? The love of her life died because she couldn't get to him in time. Seemed that was her problem. That was her enemy. Time.
Time made her regret everything. Made her have the memories stuck in her mind. Made her lose everything she had ever loved. Time, now was her biggest problem. It seemed like it would drag on forever until her children were born. The children of him... of Quintin. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Waiting until his face showed up once more in front of her eyes... it would be too much pain. Too soon. She needed time. She hated it so dearly and yet she needed it so much. Time would let her grieve. Would allow her to try to get a grip on her pathetic and weak life. If it meant she could watch his children grow then it was worth it. Yet... it seemed like she never had enough time. Quintin left... too early. Way too early. She still needed him. Still wanted his love. Still wanted his pale and frail arms wrapped around her waist as his larger frame stood over her, his chin resting on her head. It seemed like only yesterday she was hugging him, burying her face into his chest and whispering sweet-nothings. His warmth... it brought her comfort. When he had wrapped her arms around her, she was at home.. But where was home now?
People say that home is where the heart is. And her heart had lied with Quintin. So where was home now? Was it with Archaic? The pet he loved most? Or was it with her children? All she knew was that whatever was left of him, she wanted to keep it. She wanted to hold it to her as close as possible and never want to let go. He had brought her freedom. Safety. Kindness and love. Now where was it? She was locked behind the bars of insanity and grief, never allowed to be let go until she found it in her heart to move on. But... where was her heart? She couldn't find it in herself.. So where was it?.. Wherever it was, she would find it one day. And maybe she could move on. Or she would stay in seclusion and silence. Waiting and waiting until the day she would pass and fall back into the blissful arms of her beloved Quintin. She would once again be in paradise... with her other half. With the other part of her she had now lost to the clouds above her head where he rested in the warmth of the sun without her.
She had grown distant and cold, more than ever. All of the kind and caring for humanity and the outside world lost in the black abyss of her soul. She was... in short terms, insane. Not to the extent where she'd have murderous thoughts or felt nothing... it was the opposite. She felt alone. Cold. She felt like killing herself, felt like banging her head against the wall until she watched her own cold blood drip onto the floor. But if she did that it would only remind her. Remind her of him. She wanted to be so close to everything he had his whole life and yet she didn't in fear of the harm. Wherever she went reminded her of him. Reminded her of the cheshire grin that would curl on his lips. The way his matted and jet black bangs would fall in front of his contrastingly pale facial features that seemed to strike a cord in her heart that would send butterflies into her stomach. The way her cheek would flush a deep red when his thin fingers would gently brush away her dark brown bangs before caressing her cheek softly.
The bloating woman laid across the couch, just finished unpacking a few boxes. She had moved out of her old home as the increasing amount of her pets needed more space and plus she wanted to be in the home Quintin had found solitude in. And now she would find serenity and yet tears inside. His house was the first key to finding her heart. Her chubby frame sprawled on the furniture, eyes blood shot and swelling with fresh tears, the stains of old ones plaguing her soft cheeks. Her messy, unruly, and curly pink locks fell over her shoulders. The velvety strands strewn across her cheeks and falling to the cushions. A soft sniffle sounded from her nose, curling towards her stomach as arms furled around herself. Bare calves was tucked neatly against her body as heavy puffs of breathing blew through her nares. She wanted him back. She wanted his warmth, his scrawny body next to her and she lead him along the sidewalk, hand-in-hand. Hands flew to her face as her nails dug into her scalp, curling around her hair. "P-Please... s-save me f-from this hell..." She choked out. A sob wracked her body furiously before letting the tears flow freely like a dam had just broken through her. Her frame shivered coldly. An icy grip squeezed her heart briefly, filling her mind with thoughts of doubt and regret.
It's your fault. All your fault. It's your fault he's gone. You were too weak to move on you damn rat. You were too pathetic to save him. He deserved better. You were too selfish to see that he needed more than you and your fat ass. It's your fault. Your fault he isn't here. It's your fault, all your fault you damn wench. Hands dragged down her facial features in disbelief, eyes red and puffy. "N-No it's n-not t-true... I-It's not!" She shrieked to herself. Then why did you watch him die in front of your eyes. Why did you stand and watch the wolf rip out his throat and you just stood there. Why didn't you move earlier? He would be alive if it wasn't for you! She squeezed her glistening blue eyes shut. "P-Please... i-it's not t-true..." Oh but it is. You can't weasel your way out of this one, rat. You and I both know... it's your fault.
Legs quickly got herself up nimbly, stumbling towards the kitchen. Eyes stared wide ahead in.. numbness. She didn't know what she was doing but an instinct over came her, controlling her mind. A hand gripped a wall frame, trembling briefly before pushing forward. Gwendolyn threw herself against a marbled counter. She ripped open a drawer to tear out a knife. She paused, staring at it briefly to look at her reflection. She saw the red-tinted face. The brown and pink ombre hair. The chubby nose and bloodshot eyes. The glimmering tears that ran down her smooth cheeks. Swallowing down the lump in her throat before pressing the tip of the blade to her arm, she pierced the soft flesh. Shakily, she slowly wrote in the presented skin. Once she was finished, she wiped the blood off and looked at her arm in hesitation. "My fault..." She whispered, reading the words she had carved into herself.
Slowly crumpling to the floor she hunched against the cabinets lining the kitchen. She stared ahead numbly, dull blue eyes looking on. That is until a sharp pain was brought to her freshly carved arm. A wince caused her lips to purse together briefly before glancing at the fresh pain. She saw the lean head of her trusty Great Dane, Milo who was licking and lapping at the metallic blood to clean it. Eyebrows curved upwards before wrapping her frail arms around him. A wail shook her body once more before hugging him closer, tighter. Her and Milo had been through so much... He was the only joy she had left now in the dark. It had been moments before the skittering of paw pads against tile entered her ears. She twisted her features to look at the oncoming canines that slunk towards her cautiously and yet with every step they took she found comfort and safety. She saw the black and white, one-good eye Bulldog, Chubbs. She could see the tri-colored dwarf corgi, Zeus. And her new puppy doberman, Atlas. Irises widened briefly before she was greeted with nuzzles and comforting licks. A small smile curled across her features before petting each of them gently.
Maybe she wasn't completely alone... she had her comfort. She had been left alone for so long that now when she truly needed somebody the most... they were there. She might not of realized it. They might not be humans... but they were there. She had 4 dogs, a couple of horses, dear Archaic, and her twins to look forward to... she wouldn't be alone. He was watching over her. She was happy that he could no longer be felt like an outcast. She could be left to face the world without him but she wasn't truly alone. She never would be, whether she liked it or not... She would make it her duty to make their children happy if it killed her which honestly wouldn't be a bad thing. Gwen looked forward to the day her heart would stop, her blood would run cold and she would be able to greet Quintin once more and feel the warmth of his skin wrapping around her in an embrace. And one day... it would happen and she would be back with her beloved once more. But for now she could only go to her blissful dreams where she would be with him once more. Dreams of paradise where they were happy and they didn't have to worry about anything else... except themselves. Lost in space and time.
Slowly she wrapped her arms around the canines. Chubbs laid at her feet, Milo was laying across her nimble legs, and her two little pups were sitting on the crook between her chubby stomach and the side of Milo. A soft and content sigh escaped through her mouth, eyes softening briefly. "i'll come back one day, Quintin... I love you..." She whispered to herself before her head leaned back to touch the cabinets behind her frame. Gradually her eyes closed. tagged: @username notes: 2,002 WORDS made by ∆ ashycat of adoxography |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 22, 2015 19:56:25 GMT
it's so loud inside
Always in a rush, never stay on the phone long enough. Why am I so self-important? Said I see you soon, that was, oh, maybe a year ago. Didn't know time was of the essence. So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. As I drown, in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. I never said, I can't take back the words I never said. Always talking shit, took your advice and did the opposite, just being young and stupid. I haven't been all that you could have hoped for, oh but if you'd held on a little longer, you'd have had more reason to be proud.
In this world, all he had come to understand was that every living creature was born alone, lived alone, and died alone; only through the profound illusion of safe love and companionship would one be able to lure themselves into the notion of being loved. No, perhaps heartbreak was not always as loud, as visually destructive as a bomb falling, for sometimes, it could be as quiet as a feather falling, and the most painful thing was that nobody else would hear. And the grief, it was like an ocean, ebbing and flowing in perpetual waves, sometimes calm, sometimes overwhelming, but either way, all we can do is learn how to swim. A thousand times were we to die in this life, crumbling, breaking, tearing until the layers of illusion are burned away by the constant resurfacing of loss, pain, abandonment and grief, and all that is left is the truth of what we really are. Death left a heartache that no one could heal, it always came too early or too late. And the truth was he was drowning, just as Quintin had done so many times, and nobody could see him struggle.
He'd never understood mankind, or even life, for that matter; how one could smile all day only to cry themselves to sleep at night. How their best friend could become their worst enemy, or how strange it was when a worst enemy became a best friend. That one would give anything to get back just a few short months, yet long for years to be over in seconds. How even when they knew that something was best for them, and yet it hurt all the same. How one who wanted to spend all their time with another, when said other didn't want to sacrifice those few minutes. How humans still made promises, despite knowing how easily they could be broken. How humans could erase those close to them just because it's easier than working things out. The human mind was so confusing, so contrasting, so varied; he could never even begin to understand their daily sorrows until now. No, not their daily sorrows, but Quintin's.
No, depression wasn't always that girl that cried in the bathroom, or the boy that always wore long sleeves, the suicide notes and the pill bottles. Sometimes, it was all the smiles, the good grades, the perfect life. Sometimes it was the boy that was always helpful, or the girl that was always smiling for no reason. Some people cut themselves because they'd rather physically feel the pain than emotionally. Some did it in order to release some of the pent up anger, depression and frustration. Some people do it because they believe that will relieve them from their suffering. Each and every way, they left the traces of a brutal reminder, each of a war lost with oneself. Why did Quintin do it? Sure, perhaps he had it good in comparison with some people; he wasn't forced to starve, wasn't living out on the streets, had plenty of money.
The man had tried, tried more than anyone the mongrel had ever known. So why, every day, did he simply get kicked back out onto the curb, into the dust? Why was he cursed to keep bleeding out onto the stones, but the blood go unseen to the human eye? The man had driven himself into the illusion that nobody would ever miss him if his heart stopped beating, that he should die in the most painful possible way purely because he wasn't good enough. The world had broken him. It had taught him time and time again that nothing he did would ever be good enough. Hell, maybe the man was just too fucking complicated for anybody to love, maybe that was it. Maybe he'd been driven past the point of return. The edge... There was no honest way to explain it, because the only people who knew it were the ones that had already been driven over it. His own mind had taken over his life, bringing depression with it; it ruined friendships, distanced him from his family, made him hate himself, turned his world black, made him wish he was dead, brought him scars, brought him pain, made him feel worthless, took away all his hope, destroyed even the idea of happiness, forced him to push away everyone he'd ever loved, made him eat away at himself until there was nothing left but desolate darkness. Quintin had tried to get away from it so many times, he'd tried more than anyone, he'd run until his feet would ache and his legs fell out from beneath him, but the dark confines of his own mind were always there to catch him. Always. There was no escape, there never was.
The sad thing was that the mongrel was there, had always been there. He loved Quintin; not in that way, but in an emotion that drove much deeper than a mere friendship. He didn't care if he needed to stay up all night beside Quintin, he stayed with him. If the man needed medication, then he could go ahead and take it, for he would love him through that too. If he didn't need the medication, he would love him, too. There was nothing that the man could do to ever lose his love. He'd sworn to protect him until the day he died. He'd tried to be stronger than the depression and braver than the loneliness... So how did Quintin fail to see he was there? He was always there, always... And the time he wasn't...? He'd ruined everything. Not just for himself, but for Gwen, for the man's unborn children. He'd wrecked their lives, singlehandedly. All of this was his fault. If he'd said something sooner, later... Just any time but the time at which he had spoken of his abilities, Quintin would have been alive. If he'd have chosen any other time, the man would have been able to see his children into the world. He'd taken the one instance where Quintin could truly be happy, and crushed it right in front of the man's eyes. He'd sworn to protect the man, and ended up being his downfall. He'd failed Quintin. He'd failed...
He didn't know how long it had been since the death of the dishevelled man, nor did he care to keep a count of the many hours gone by in which he longed for the presence of the broken bipedal. He was sorry... He was sorry for being so fucked up, for being such a failure, for fucking everything up... He was sorry for being him. But that wouldn't bring him back, would it? That wouldn't starve the countless hours of grief and pain he had caused Gwen, the fact that she had to bleed to know she was alive. Sorry wouldn't fix things. It never did. He hated the person he had become, he hated what he'd done, he hated himself, but nothing could erase what had happened. It all just seemed so... Surreal. So fake. As if he couldn't comprehend what was going on. He'd lost who he was, he couldn't understand any of it. It was now just all a worthless, bleary memory. All of it, wasted years and wasted gain, all of it lost in the darkness of his mind. It was almost like everything never happened. Was it all a lie? And illusion? No, he wasn't fine. Not at all.
One... Two... Three... Four... One... Two... The numbers did nothing but repeat themselves in the darkened confines of his mind, accenting each fleeting movement of his irises. For they were all he had left, these numbers. Two and four were sick reminders of him to breath, one and three measured each series of erratic heartbeats, nearly too faint to accurately measure. No, he hadn't always relied on numbers, for there was a time when his body used to live without him needing to think about it. However, that was when he had a reason to live. One... Two... Three.... Four... One... Two... The heavily protruding ribs lining his pale sides, the clothing tattered and torn, rose and fell unevenly with each ragged intake of breath. He hadn't eaten, not properly, in months, only forcing himself to take in a morsel when his body was screaming, and on it's last legs, driven only to preserving himself by instinct and the thought of the promise he had made to Quintin. He'd sworn he'd protect Gwen, the children... He never said he would protect himself. The thought of seeing them happy kept him going, though there was no happiness to be had. There was no happiness, no love... There wasn't even a home anymore. The empty corridors had only grown darker as the presence of the dishevelled man left, the foreboding dread shrouding the air. There was no escaping the thick, melancholy air about the place. But even that could not compare to the self-blame weighing on his chest, heart and mind. The numbers, they were all he had left. One... Two...
Four... Two... One... His head shook, darkly toned crimson irises squinting shut, for even the numbers couldn't last forever. His mind wandered, the numbers became jumbled, and he would have to start all over again. The weakened, erratic pounds of his heart, the shuddering intakes of breath, they held the power to both plague his mind and keep it running, both his poison and his remedy. He had always been told to hold fast to his dreams, for without them life was a broken winged bird which could not fly. He'd watched his dreams die before him, and his life had become empty. Everything had become so cold, so distant. He didn't want to be here anymore, he didn't want to stay; every little thing that he did only reminded him of the man. The pale, dishevelled features he longed to see once more. Images of the sickly crimson staining the pale neck, the fearful teal irises, the shuddering frame... They filled his mind, drawing another sharp intake of air burning through his aching lungs, burying his face within his hands, limbs shaking violently as he did so. Things he should have said, things he should have done, they roared through his mind, billowing before his very eyes. Things were jumbling again, dreams and memories and realities all merging into one, his world blurred, until he knew nothing of what to do.... The numbers, the numbers... One... Two... Three... Four... One... They were all he had. Yes, yes, just keep counting... Two... Three... Four...
It was because of him. Everything was because of him. His own stupidity, ignorance, pride... Every last bit of it. Every day he was homesick for a place that didn't exist. Maybe he longed to be beside the dishevelled man, maybe he simply wanted to be away from this place... Everything he saw was black, but nobody ever noticed. No, nobody ever noticed... So often he'd fight a war against his reflection in the windows, simply because he couldn't take the person staring back at him. He was his own worst enemy, a hazard to himself. One... Four... Two.. Three... Two... He constantly had this strange feeling that he wasn't himself anymore, that he wasn't living. Everyone just walked on by, they didn't care, they had themselves to worry about. They would never care. Not about him, not about Gwen, not about the kids... They never did, not until something dramatic happens. He had so many questions, so many things that he needed to say to the man... He'd never believe in all the bullshit about second lives, or reincarnation, or heaven... But even he found it hard to believe that somebody like Quintin could simply be submitted to eternal darkness, simply cease to exist, just like that. He couldn't have struggled through his life, his drowning unheard by mankind, simply to be gone. Someone who gave you so much to remember couldn't just vanish.
He hadn't moved from the same spot, perched upon that windowsill, for months on end, only trailing from the dark area when his body screamed and his self-preservation instincts kicked in. He barely saw Gwen, he didn't want to. He couldn't face her knowing that he had destroyed one of the few things she treasured. His dark irises were constantly fixated upon the area outside, his arms furled around his legs, tucked against the window as much as possible, simply staring. What he was waiting for? He knew that the dishevelled man was gone, yet somehow he couldn't deter the need to watch him hobble up that driveway with the funny little penguin-walk of his, always in a rush to get back. He longed to be able to run down those stairs in only a few quick bounds and greet the man in wild excitement. So, there he waited. He's always wait for Quintin. One... Two... Three... Four... Quintin would always come home, always, no matter what it took. Quintin wouldn't just leave...
Four... One... Three... Fou-... The numbers jumbled, congesting, merging with each other, as the sickly scent of crimson fleeted past his nares, and instinctively, his head shot up. The dried blood beneath his nails, never having been washed away, could not possibly create such a pungent scent; it was far too stale, whereas this... This was fresh, thick, and nearby. Gwen. Wait... Gwen?! His red-rimmed irises, long made glassy, gained a new luster of desperation, and in his distress, he staggered upright, his weakened frame slumping against the door, shaking limb tearing it open. Images of the man's pale body, accented by the harsh crimson one, filtered through his mind, blocking out all needs other than to get to the source of the blood scent.
Through hazed vision, he made out the staircase, and stumbled down it, narrowly avoiding falling many a time in the process. His sides heaved, protruding ribcage visibly heaving up and down beneath his clothing, his weak muscles aching incessantly, his frame screaming to stop, months of improper nourishment having taken their tole. But he couldn't stop. No, Gwen, he had to get to her. What if he'd failed her too? What if it was already too late? "G...wen...!?" his voice was far too hoarse to himself to hear over the thrumming of his temples. The word stung back through his throat, setting it aflame, as his frame staggered down the hallway towards the kitchen. His blurred irises made out her frame slumped against the cabinets, alongside the smaller furred forms. Far too driven by his desperation to ensure she was intact to fully take in the scene at hand, his red-rimmed irises fleeted swiftly over her frame, and in catching a brief glimpse of the crimson accenting the pale skin of her arm, he took a singular pace forward, one hand extending, though stopped himself, halting in the doorway. This was the first time he'd seen her, or she'd seen him properly in countless weeks... She wouldn't want to see him... Not because he was a malnourished mess, fully equipped with bloodshot eyes, tattered closing, deathly pale skin and matted hair, no, but because it was his fault. Ever piece of this was his fault. With such a notion set firmly in place within the dark confines of his mind, his facials dropped into his hands, and with cracked vocals he managed a quiet, "I-i'm s-sorry..." before backing away, turning to move, or rather stumble, back towards the staircase.
One... Two... Three...
So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. But I know that you can't hear me anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. And as I drown in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. The longer I stand here, the louder the silence, I know that you're gone, but sometimes I swear that I hear, your voice when the wind blows. So I talk to the shadows, hoping that you might be listening, 'cos I want you to know that it's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said, I never said. I never said. I can't take back the words I never said, I never said.
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MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0 |
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Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster
Shifter
~Being broken is simply the first step to being fixed~
Posts: 20
200x300 avatar: http://orig15.deviantart.net/2bc5/f/2015/267/0/a/c453b6db_3567_4fb0_97f8_5678db731940_zpsdgnvprug_by_xanimalgirl345667x-d9at1x8.jpg
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Post by Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster on Mar 22, 2015 22:06:43 GMT
like a soul mate, he's your penguin Gwendolyn didn't know who she was anymore. Didn't know about the reflection staring back at her every time she saw herself in the waters. The ripples that ruined the still picture of her... but could she even refer to herself as an individual. She had two parts, a line that separated them as it split down her body. The other half had died and took her heart with it. Had taken all meanings of happiness, care, affection, compassion... and dare I say... Love. It had all been so new to her. She had only knew him in months. And in those months had she flourished in romance. In kindness. She had slept at night feeling at peace because she imagined herself in his arms and now he was gone. She no longer knew of what people called love. She knew it once. Once upon a time when she was happy and now it was gone. Forever had never been enough. She loved him until the end of his life and beyond. Fell too hard, too fast. He wasn't there to catch her anymore when she fell on the concrete as her heart bled the blues.
Life was like a tight rope. A very thin line as you try to balance on it, watching everyone around you fall. With the perfect balance only then will you find accomplishment and going through life. She had found somebody to walk the tight rope with. Somebody to slowly waltz in the middle of a ball room. And now she had no helper. Had no dance partner. Love like his had only come once and now it was gone. Where was it? Where had the time they spent together gone? It seemed like only yesterday... she had the front of his shirt clenched between her flat teeth, preventing him from falling. But she had let go. Let him slip right through her grasp. Watched as the ground underneath him gave way to darkness and despair. She no longer had his warmth or his grin. She never knew how good she had it until it was gone. Until he was gone. The light of her life had been sucked away, left to sit without her.
Would her children ever grow up with a father? Would she find anybody as beautiful and special as her Quintin? Her children would never feel the joy of knowing their real father. Never able to be picked up by their father and be able to tell their friends that that was their dad. For god's sake she couldn't move on from Quintin. Would she ever be able to find a replacement?... No, replacement is too... undefined as a word. Too cruel. Nobody could replace him. Nobody could replace the spot in her lost heart she had kept for him. They had almost been perfect. Almost been happy. Almost had a life together. She had dreamed of living together under the same roof with little children running about. But it had slipped right through her fingers. Slid out of her grasp and drifted to the sky like a balloon lost to the wind. Could she ever have the joy of feeling butterflies flitter around warmly in her stomach? Where had the times gone?
"Doubt thou the stars are fire,"
Even closing her eyes wouldn't help her escape the hell she was living through. She might not of been alone... But it didn't mean the pain didn't lessen. Her heart ached at this realization. She couldn't handle him not being here. When her blue eyes flittered open, she did not find a pale and slender hand extended towards her to help her up, instead she found something far worst than anything she could ever imagine. Like the Devil was taunting her with the bliss of death right before her gaze. The woman found darkness. Her canines were gone. She was wrapped in a blanket of ice-cold temperatures. Jolting up, blue eyes flickered around fearfully. Where was she? More importantly why was it so damn cold and dark? Glancing down at her hands, she saw the pale skin. She saw it turning almost blue as if her blood had ran cold. But on top of that layer of skin was the dark red liquid of blood. Not just anybody's blood... Quintin's blood. Her fingers twitched slightly to see if this was her body... if she was alive. And, unfortunately, she was. Nostrils flew wildly as heavy puffs of air blew out, coming out as a cold cloud in the black room. And there she saw him. Through the white clouds of breathes, she saw him. Saw his tall and scrawny frame. His near-white skin and the aqua eyes. The long arms and legs, matted black hair. She slowly took a few steps forward until realizing her presence was causing him pain. Only then did her eyes and mind register the blood... oh dear god. He was stained in it. His perfect skin was plagued by the crimson blood, metallic scent wafting over to her nose. His lips parted briefly to whisper...
"Why?"
Her vision cleared. Away from the cold, the skin, the blood, away from him. She jerked her head around to stare at her hands, no longer dripping with blood of her love. New tears welled in her eyes. Fingers curled to her cracked and dry hands. She quivered with fear. Shaking underneath the presence of her demons. How does it feel, hmm? How does it feel to recognize the murderer inside? Did you see his face? Did you see the blood? Did you see it on your hands as it dripped down his neck? Did you enjoy it, my little Pet? You're suffering us now. But you deserve it. Every. Last. One of us. The tears slipped down to roll down her cheeks once more. A wrist twisted around to wipe them away. Her breathing was shaky, skin cold. "G...wen...?!" She heard the broken speech. Her broken name like it was her heart.
"Doubt that the sun doth move,"
Blue eyes snapped up to look at the pale man. Her mind went blank for a second before remembering what exactly Archaic was. He was like her. A shifter. Such similar creatures cannot learn to realize that their worlds are the same. She looked at the hesitant palm that was offered to her, but it was too far to reach her. Her gaze switched to the red eyes. The ribs sticking out slightly underneath his clothing. "I-I'm s-sorry..." Her eyes widened slightly at hearing Quintin's voice in his. Muscles (or rather lack of) bunched up beneath her skin. She heard the masculine voices join together to make two. Archaic... he was just another representation of Quintin. He might no realize it but she did. She could see him in the canine shifter. Saw his blue eyes hiding behind those brown orbs. Saw the matted hair sitting atop their heads. She couldn't let him get away to sulk again. Couldn't let him go on like this. It was now officially her duty to take care of Archaic whether he liked it or not. She had a need to try and help the broken people, even if everybody else thought their pieces were too scattered to find and even if they did there was too many to pick up and put back together. But with her she had to at least try.. if not for her sake than theirs.
Quickly she put down her puppies, shoved off the two big canines and scrambled up. Wide eyes stared at the shoulders sticking out of his thin back. Her feet slipped across the tile, heart pounding in her ears. "Archaic!" She called his name, voice echoing loud and clear before gripping his wrist. She forced him to turn his body to look at her and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. What on Earth was she doing some may ask. She was offering comfort. Offering- what people called it- friendship. Companionship and affection. He had been the one closest to Quintin... he deserved much more than her to grieve. Deserved the time and the attention. Everybody over looked him.. but why?
"Doubt truth to be a liar,"
How could everyone over look the most important person in Quintin's life? Wide eyes stared at the chest she held her face closed to. She heard the heart behind the bones. Heard the echoing of faint pieces breaking second by second. Slowly pulling her ear away to look up at his face, her mouth gaped open slightly. "...Not y-your f-fault....Not y-your fau-ult..." The woman murmured quietly, soft breathing expanding the weak lungs inside of her. Thump thump. Thump thump. "My fault... M-My Fault.. It's a-all my f-fault..." Gwen whimpered before glancing to the floor with guilt. Regretful that she couldn't save Quintin and was too weak to make it there in time. So weak and pathetic...
"But never doubt I love you.." tagged: SPARROW notes: They're so screwed up dx 1.517 WORDS made by ∆ ashycat of adoxography |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 23, 2015 21:06:29 GMT
it's so loud inside
Always in a rush, never stay on the phone long enough. Why am I so self-important? Said I see you soon, that was, oh, maybe a year ago. Didn't know time was of the essence. So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. As I drown, in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. I never said, I can't take back the words I never said. Always talking shit, took your advice and did the opposite, just being young and stupid. I haven't been all that you could have hoped for, oh but if you'd held on a little longer, you'd have had more reason to be proud.
Being heartbroken could only be compared to housing a broken rib, for while on the outside it appears as if nothing is wrong, every breath hurts. People were always broken in certain ways, and as such, they can never be truly fixed, in the same way that a cracked mirror will never again provide the perfect reflection. The darkness of the world was something never placed into the minds of the young, though somehow, it never fails to surprise people when they were to grow older, watching everyone in their lives break one by one. And yet, everybody was still just so fucking fine with it. Sometimes, they were hurt and bruised and nearly completely shattered, and they still acted as if everything was all perfect in the world. They'd smile, soldier on, lead themselves into the false illusion that everything would get better. No, one always had to take care when attempting to mend a broken person, for they may cut themselves on the shattered pieces.
Nobody knew the real him. Not Quintin, not Gwen, not even Cody, not anymore. Nobody knew how many times he'd cried when nobody was watching. Nobody knew how many times he'd lost hope. Nobody knew how many time he'd been let down. Nobody knew how many times he'd been so close to snapping, but prevented himself from doing so purely for the sake of those around him. Nobody knew the thoughts that went through his head, how horrible they really were. Nobody knew of the nightmares he lived, day in and day out. Nobody knew him. Everything had been doing so well, Quintin had been doing so well, then everything had just come crashing down on top of them. Every little piece they'd glued back together came crumbling in. And perhaps the worst part was that he didn't want to put it all back together, not again. Not without Quintin. The truth was hard, awkward, and more often than not, the truth hurt. People drive themselves into the illusion that they want the truth, but do they, really? The truth was painful; deep down, nobody wanted to hear it, especially when it has such a strong capability to hit so close to home. Sometimes people told the truth because it was all they had left to give. Sometimes they gave it because they need to say it out loud for themselves to truly believe. Sometimes, it was because they just couldn't help themselves. And, sometimes, it was because they owed at least that much.
Why was it that whenever anybody tried to hold onto something strong, something pure, something beautiful, that it always slipped away? Why did life always find a way to pry it from their fingertips? In this life, people would always have that unspeakable secret, the irreversible regret, the unreadable dream, the unforgotten love... So why was his forced to involve the only one he'd give up everything for? A million words could not bring Quintin back. He knew because he'd tried. A million tears couldn't, either. He knew because he'd tried. The world could not understand his words, let alone even begin to comprehend understanding his silence. Sometimes it was better to remain silent than to tell others how you felt; it will only hurt you when they cannot understand. Silence was the most powerful of screams. He never liked to depend on people, for people would always leave. At the end of the day, all you have is yourself, and you must get by on such a notion. So why was he never good enough for himself? More importantly, why was he never good enough for the people around him? Humanity? He used to believe it existed, Quintin proved to him it did. Only when one had their heart torn out and thrown on the floor could they even begin to understand the constant weight. He remembered every word the man said. He couldn't stop thinking about it. All these fragmented speeches, missing words, blurred sentences, blotting together to produce an incoherent mumble of a message.
Glassy, crimson-hued irises faltered as her own blue orbs shifted upwards, unable to dare himself to stare into the cerulean pools, scared to death of what he'd find within them. Fear, pain, hatred. She'd hate him for what he did, he knew it, the notion darkening his thoughts and bringing fear rising within his chest. Breathing in violent, ragged pants that speared though his lungs and burnt through his throat, his chest rose and fell in uneven shudders, each breath only bringing further pain to him. He'd taken away one of the only things that brought her happiness. He'd ruined everything. He wasn't ready to face her, no, not yet. Frame held tense, despite the distinctly malnourished state of it, he jerked himself out of the doorframe, moving to stumble down the hallway. The faint traces of numbers began within his mind one again, all other thoughts lost to their beginning. One... Two... Three... Four... One... T-...
The abrupt calling of his name in the familiar tone of the feminine's voice enticed his attention back to the present, his head twisting slightly upon feeling her fingers clutch at his wrist, her eyes boring into the back of his head. "D-don't... Don't c-call m-me that..." His words were unintentionally sharp, though shook with every new word, his weak frame twisting as she pulled him round, not having the heart to fight against her touch. Seconds felt like hours, her touch and gaze alike setting him aflame, swallowing against the lump formed and set so deeply within his throat. She'd punish him, she'd shout, she'd hit him... She'd do something. It was his fault... All his fault. His frame violently trembled, features deathly pale and violently bare, his irises fixated downwards. One... Four... Three... The numbers, all those instances keeping him sane, poisoned his mind to the core, pain shooting through him. They conjoined, incoherent jumbles of numbers forming a hushed murmur. Four... One... Three...
The numbers enticed him into his usual strange, semi-conscious state, or at least that was, until the unexpected warmth shifted against his own. Glassy irises widened promptly, his frame uneasily jerking away from her, though he didn't break free of her grip. Trembling wildly, he still half expected her to turn around, to shout at him, to hit him, to do something other than cling to him. His facials wielded a permanent wince, staring down at the top of her head, rooted to the spot, rendered unable to move by the intense emotions welling within his chest. He couldn't move away from her, he couldn't return the gesture, hell, he couldn't even breathe. The breath caught in his throat and stuck there, dark irises averting and returning to the terrain below her feet, biting his lip, fighting back the wetness that swept into them. He felt her gaze upon his facials again, causing him to tilt his skull downwards, swallowing harshly. Her words stuck every little broken piece of his heart, causing them to shatter once again, the dishevelled man's words filling his mind. "N-no... You p-promised... Gwen, you p-promised him..." A shuddering breath left him, trying to at least make his sentences decipherable between the ragged breath and the tearing pains blazing through him. "You s-said y-you wouldn't b-blame y-yourself..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I d-drove him o-out t-that night... All m-my fault, G-gwen... Every l-little b-bit... Every little...-" a choked sob slipped it's way past his defences, tears streaming down his face. His back pressed against the wall, and he slid down to the floor, burying his facials in his hands. "E-ev...erything... I-i'm s-so...rry..." The wetness sweeping from his eyes burnt his already pale skin, "I-I pr-...promised t-to pr-otect h-him a-and... A-and I w-wasn't there... I should h-have been... I sh-ould h-have been... I c-could have d-done something..."
So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. But I know that you can't hear me anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. And as I drown in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. The longer I stand here, the louder the silence, I know that you're gone, but sometimes I swear that I hear, your voice when the wind blows. So I talk to the shadows, hoping that you might be listening, 'cos I want you to know that it's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said, I never said. I never said. I can't take back the words I never said, I never said.
my head |
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0 |
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Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster
Shifter
~Being broken is simply the first step to being fixed~
Posts: 20
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Post by Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster on Mar 23, 2015 23:38:54 GMT
like a soul mate, he's your penguin Gwendolyn had no room to hate in her heart. Had no rage. No fury. No anger or wretched thoughts of killing or even harming another. She was... too frail. Too weak. Too grieved and misunderstood to ever actually hurt another with no reason. Society had proved she didn't deserve them... if she hated another, it would prove she was just as bad as them. All she could do was cry. Cry and feel love- but oh not for herself. No, while she couldn't hate others, she could hate herself. She was so weak and spineless. So pathetic and sniveling. Just some girl that brought bad luck to those around her. And one day she'll be all alone, like she deserved it. All alone without anyone else to save her as she drowned underneath her tidal waves of hate and yet love. Love for everyone who had the strength to keep going on. To keep going through life like she couldn't.
And maybe she was already drowning. Drowning in her own salty tears of pain. Through the guilt and regret she couldn't find any love for herself, already using it on everyone else. The only person she hated was the person who killed Quintin... he ruined everything. That damn wolf had destroyed the love of her life. Her children's father. Archaic's best friend. She'd go on without the protection of the love of another. The safety in another's arms. A home in their heart. That wolf had taken everything that was precious to her. He had made her world tumble down and crash onto the burning ground, flames swirling around her, taunting her with the idea of returning to Quintin but never being able to reach that dream. Dreams.... dreams were just wishes that your heart made. And if your heart was too broken then your dreams were too. Just negative fantasies of leaving behind everything. But running from your problems never solved anything... Reality always seemed to catch up with you and show you just how much you made everything worst. And most of all... it showed just how weak she was.
The prospect of two children being birthed into the world should of excited the new mother. Had she not lost the father and forced the poor babies to go through the same hell she went through. The world was dark and cruel. Only those who were able to match the same feathers of all the birds in humanity would be accepted.... she would never be accepted. She was a Unicorn. The mythical equine only little children could dream of. Everybody thought she was dead. Wasn't supposed to be alive. But Quintin had accepted her. Welcomed her with open arms as the storm raged on with everyone else who would dare to beat down her opinions for ever thinking that she could be real. One day she would disappear and nobody would noticed for they all had already thought she was gone. Died many years ago with the dinosaurs. But they weren't gone either. They had only evolved into something much... well something that suited human's tastes. Wouldn't exactly call it an improvement but it sure was something.
"D-Don't... Don't c-call m-me that..." Eyes softened slightly, eyebrows curving upwards. She couldn't imagine the pain he must of felt at hearing the name Quintin had used for him so much. Swallowing down the lump and hot spit sitting in her throat, she breathed slowly. "Don't... try to run from the pain. I know it hurts.... I know that it must feel like shit hearing the name Quintin called you... but... running from it never works." She murmured quietly, grip loosening slightly on his wrist before tightening once more. "You probably know that more than anybody...." Average and ignorant people often didn't find safety and company with a broken person. He must of had some sort of tragedy.... everyone did. Even if they didn't realize, it was always there. It had happen, did happen, or would happen.
Although slightly scared she had hurt the poor man, she held her grip on him. Though she was also a little disappointed that she didn't find the same love and appreciation as she had with Quintin. But now was not the time to be disappointed because she couldn't feel. But she could hear every shaky inhale. Every ragged tremble of his ribcage. The shuddering of his heart beneath the skin and bones. Her eyes closed briefly to take in the sounds to calm down the own pounding of her heart beat. "N-No... You p-promised... Gwen," A wince softly escaped her pursed lips before relaxing. "You p-promised him... You s-said y-you wouldn't b-blame y-yourself..." Her lips curled downwards into a frown. "It's so hard not to... w-when I watched the wolf tear into him and I couldn't move... I couldn't do anything.. I was too weak and when I finally got to him... i-it was too l-late..." Her voice faltered, wavering slightly, heavy with culpability. "I d-dorve him o-out t-that night... All m-my fault, G-Gwen... Every l-little b-bit... Every little...-" His weak and frail frame slipped from her finger tips as he moved back, the droplets of tears slipping down his facial features.
"E-Ev... erything... I-I'm s-so...rry... I-I pr-...promised t-to pr-otect h-him a-and... a-and I w-wasn't there... I should h-have been... I sh-ould h-have been... I c-could have d-done something..." Slowly getting down to her knees in front of him, her hands slowly grabbed his hands once more. "Hey... Hey look at me." Slowly and gently she pulled them away, a hand reaching over to grab his chin and force him to look at her whether he liked it or not. "It's not your fault. You didn't know. You didn't know he was going to die. I know you think that you could have done something and you did. Even if you don't realize it, you did. You were there when his final words left his lips and nobody could ask for a better friend. I know it feels like nobody understand but you're not alone. I'm here. You can tell me. Because whether you like it or not you're all I have left..." The woman's voice lowered to a pathetic and sad whimper-like sound. "If you really think that you're to blame, then did you know? Did you know he would die? Did you make that wolf bite into his throat? I know I seem like a hypocrite but... he was the only one who understood and now he's gone, as much as we don't want to realize it, he is."
made by ∆ ashycat of adoxography |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 28, 2015 21:41:03 GMT
it's so loud inside
Always in a rush, never stay on the phone long enough. Why am I so self-important? Said I see you soon, that was, oh, maybe a year ago. Didn't know time was of the essence. So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. As I drown, in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. I never said, I can't take back the words I never said. Always talking shit, took your advice and did the opposite, just being young and stupid. I haven't been all that you could have hoped for, oh but if you'd held on a little longer, you'd have had more reason to be proud.
Don't trust too much, don't hope to much, don't love too much; his age had never made him wise, for that was all he had learnt. That it was always better to be alone, for nobody could hurt you. That bad luck and extreme misfortune were to infest the souls of living beings for all eternity. Somehow, he'd found himself right back where it had all started, with nothing, with nobody; the noose was back around his neck, slowly growing tighter every time he tried to fight for life, for anything, for anyone, all a nightmare of which he would never wake. He often wondered why humans and their offspring would search beneath the bed for monsters, for they were buried deep inside heads, not bed sheets, not the darkness of a wardrobe, or a closet. People said it got better. People lied. You only learn to get used to it. His heart was shattered, his friends didn't give a fuck, there weren't any stars in his sky, and everything had been black since the event. His head... It was killing him, slowly, torturously so. Everything he saw was black. The notion of turning his wrists red, so that the world wouldn't seem so dark, had briefly passed his mind, though even that reminded him of Quintin, so much so that he couldn't bear the notion of looking down at the scars only to think of what had been lost, what could have been, what once was... Everything that he, singlehandedly, had destroyed.
But that being said, he was thankful for the fact that he'd ever met Quintin, because Quintin was always the one to ask if anything was wrong. Quintin was the one who loved him for him. Quintin was the one who cared when nobody else did. The one who listened. The one who did things, just for him. He knew he'd never look upon that pale face again, yet somehow every day that passed in which he didn't, he tried to act like he was okay. He wanted to feel okay about it, he wanted to accept it, but he just couldn't. Putting on the act wasn't working for him, purely because there was too much left unsaid. He didn't know how he was, how he felt, or how long it had been since he'd known how to live without regret. Would he soon learn to be alright with it, then just fumble past all those moments locked away in memory, without saying anything at all? He was so scared of that happening, he was scared that he'd be able to look into someone's eyes without remembering. That he'd one day look upon Gwen, or upon her children, Quintin's unborn children, and have no memory of the avian-like man' existence. He was so terrified of forgetting. No matter how long it took, no matter how much his heart would break, he would always wait for Quintin. Always.
The softening of her irises did nothing to relieve the notion of self-blame and hatred from his chest, his skull bowed, evidently reluctant to look upon her at all. Her words caused the doubt to momentarily subside into confusion. Running? She thought he was running from all this? "I'm not running!" his words came a hoarse growl, unintentionally harsh, eyes briefly narrowing, "I... I-I just... I'm..." His brief anger faltered. How was he supposed to explain his motives to her? How was he supposed to tell her that there was no possible way he could stop trying, stop believing that he'd see the man again? How was he supposed to tell her that none of it felt real? "I-I... Can't r-run... There's n-no way t-to..." There was no place he could possibly go to escape the emotions that had embedded themselves within his chest. "There's n-no p-place on e-earth that c-could s-stop this..." Even if he left behind every memory he'd held of Quintin, every moment, every second, spent in the dishevelled man's presence, he'd never forget. He wouldn't let himself, even if it killed him.
Speaking of the promise made drew a visible wince from her, to which his voice faltered slightly, and the frown only brought about further notions of self-blame. He was making it worse... Why would she let him just go back upstairs? Wouldn't that be better... For everyone? He'd make everything worse, he always did. "I-it d-doesn't m-matter, Gwen... Y-you couldn't h-have stopped it... Nobody c-could, if f-fate willed i-it..." Even he didn't believe his words, though that was as far as his effort to comfort her could go when he was broken himself. There was no such thing as fate, an optimal combination of both choice and chance, nothing more. "B-but if h-he'd never been o-out t-there in t-the first place... M-maybe h-he could have... Been..." Images of blood stained pale skin flew through his mind, the brown fur of what was his best friend, the violently bare facials...
Thin back sliding down the wall, pain briefly fluttering through his spine as pressure was placed upon it, his legs dragged closer to his frame, deathly pale facials burying in his hands, unable to halt the tears pouring from his dark irises. He should have been there, he should have been right there with Quintin. He should never have let him leave the house, leave his life behind. He should have done something the moment the pale man had taken a step out of the godforsaken house. As he felt the presence of the woman once again close to him, his knees pulled further back, jaw clenching, struggling to cease the silenced sobs that wracked his frame, weak body convulsing slightly with each. He made no sound, for he had learnt to be silent when experiencing such emotions. Sadness, grief, pain, all having been endured silently. He flinched upon feeling her fingers furl round his wrists once again, the violently shaking limbs being pulled away from his features, head bowing so that his face was out of view. However, it was soon gently pulled upwards; he didn't have the heart left to fight against her grip, his red-rimmed eyes having been turned a whole more violent, irritated shade as a result of his sobs, wetness staining his face from the tears that poured down it. It was his fault, no matter what she could possibly say in effort to relieve that fact. He'd held off on telling Quintin for the fear of what he'd think, of what he'd say... He was paying for all that time now, all those years spent by the man's side.
However, as she stated that he was all she had, his darkly toned, crimson irises, glassy with wetness, sought to reluctantly meet her own gaze, swallowing harshly against the lump in his throat, every breath burning through his lungs, his heightened hearing clinging to every word that left her lips, desperate for something, a relief, an end to all the pent up pain, something that he would only look to the dishevelled man for. Because, truth be told, now she was his everything. He didn't have Quintin, not anymore. He didn't have Cody, the killer of the man. Hell, he didn't even have Lilly; how was he supposed to explain all this to her? Him showing his vulnerability was rare, though somehow, he found himself willing, if only for the sake of their future. "I-I j-just... Don't leave?" His gaze slackened from it's hold on her own, settling instead on the terrain below them. Perhaps in the right mind he could have figured that was nonsense, but in his odd saddened state, he found himself unable to bear the thought of her leaving, just as he had. And, for some odd reason, his trembling hand extended to gently settled round her waist in effort to tug her softly towards him, and if such succeeded, he'd gently hug her. "Please don't go..."
So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. But I know that you can't hear me anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. And as I drown in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. The longer I stand here, the louder the silence, I know that you're gone, but sometimes I swear that I hear, your voice when the wind blows. So I talk to the shadows, hoping that you might be listening, 'cos I want you to know that it's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said, I never said. I never said. I can't take back the words I never said, I never said.
my head |
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0 |
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Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster
Shifter
~Being broken is simply the first step to being fixed~
Posts: 20
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Post by Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster on Mar 28, 2015 23:33:55 GMT
[presto]  Can you be my Nightingale Gwen knew of what humanity thought of themselves of. Some high and mighty sort of shit, like nothing could crumple them. But one day when they realize all they've done, all the pain, all their weaknesses that can over power their strengths will make them see that they are no better than animals, killing for survival. Why did everyone want to make others feel like the shutters were always closed, or the doors always locked? As if there was no shelter offered to the different, the poor, the starving, the crying. They could be so blind.. so untrustworthy and disgusting. But at the end of the day, everyone was only human. We were all the same. We all had the same blood in underneath our skin, the same beating heart, the same bones in our body. Why must we be treated differently only because we were just being human. As if it was a sin to be yourself. Like if being different from anybody else meant that we were just animals. Hate only proved we were the same. That we were no better than the ones who brought us hatred. But only love could block out hatred. It was affection, care, and love that could make another feel better. Better than anybody else could. Nobody could see it except her. Just like nobody could see their struggle... except them. If a tree fell when nobody was around, did it make a sound? Or was it just background noise on a soundtrack stuck on repeat? A soundtrack of cries howling to the moonlight in desperation, calling for help when there was none. Help was in ourselves because nobody gave a damn enough to help pick up the pieces.. too time consuming or too stupid to matter to them. We all had to fend for ourselves, had to take care of ourselves. And if somebody cared enough to help rebuild the walls brick by brick then they were saviors. They were angels sent from heaven whether they realize it or not. Archaic was her Guardian Angel. He was her savior now. Quintin was gone as much as she hated to admit it so now they had to look after each other. With their best friend and her lover gone, they only had each other left. She would vow to herself- no, to Archaic that she would repay him for staying with her even if it was only for the children. And maybe that's all that mattered now. For she would see Quintin in her children. See his slender jawline, the pale skin, the black hair. She would see him in the two little children. Just as she saw him in everything else. When she looked in a mirror, she could still see his thin arms wrapping around her waist from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. Saw him hobbling down the hallway with that cute little walk of his. That walk that had brought him so much pain but she only found love in it. "I'm not running!"He snapped at her but she only looked on with calm and patient eyes. "I... I-I just... I'm... I-I... can't r-run... there's n-no way t-to... there's n-no place on E-Earth that c-could s-stop this..."She listened calmly, slowly wrapping her arms around him in comfort. Soft breathing quietly puffed through her nose despite the tears that fought to spill. Archaic had been with Quintin longer than she had... he deserved the comfort more than anybody. He had been his best friend, helping him through thick and thin like nobody else could. How could he fail to see the light in himself? How could he not see that he wasn't alone? It could feel like it.. hell sometimes it felt like dancing in an empty room with nobody around so then when you did crash nobody would notice. But she would be there. She would help him if he just let her. "I-It d-doesn't m-matter, Gwen... Y-You couldn't h-have stopped it... Nobody c-could, if f-fate willed i-it..."A soft rage slowly bubbled in her blood. "And like you could?!" She snapped quickly before facials softening briefly. How people could be so ignorant as to deny the advice they give others made her guffawed and bewildered. If he could just.. stop feeling sorry for himself and actually listen to the words coming out of his mouth maybe then he could actually understand. "B-But if h-he'd never been o-out t-there in t-the first place... M-Maybe h-he could have... been..." The woman slowly shook her head. "Archaic just stop for a moment. Please. Listen to yourself for once. Listen to the words coming out of your own mouth. If I couldn't stop it do you think anybody else could? Do you think anybody could stop what happened?" Not once did her voice falter. It did not waver nor crack. The voice that had stuttered for so many years now rang clear with the truth her mind and heart lead her to believe. There were no knots in her tongue anymore. There was no tension inside her at the thought that the world was trying to do something to her. She was no longer afraid of death or pain. She knelt down to him as he slid to the floor. Eyebrows curved upwards at looking at the broken man... so much like Quintin. Pieces breaking and breaking by the second as living seemed to become so hard to the point where it hurt to hear your own heart beating. She couldn't stand to see him like this. Couldn't stand to know that he was dying inside and if not than he already was. That his heart was slowly crumpling, heart strings snapping off one by one. As the wails had tried to become so harsh that he tried to restrain it, her almost gentle yet firm hands grabbed his own to allow them to pull away from his facial features. Her glassy blue eyes gazed into his own as it became harder and harder to even speak without crying or shaking. She wasn't crying for herself... she wasn't crying at how her life was ending up. She was crying for Archaic. That he would never be able to stand by Quintin's side ever again. That he had to trudge through life without him. Quintin had been Archaic's best friend, all he knew and all he would of known. Now it was gone. If it was one thing she learned it was that death was hard. The parting of a loved one wasn't easy. But one day we'd all die and return to them one way or another. That one day all of the tears would be washed away with bliss at seeing them again in the starry heavens above. People didn't like change. The thought of the unknown terrified them. That they didn't know whether they would live or die frightened them. But learning to accept this piece of information had become apart of her. Pain wasn't something to be afraid of. Nor was death. It was something to be welcoming so when you did die that you wouldn't cry. Once his eyes met her own, she offered a measly smile of appreciation, gratitude, and comfort. "I'm here, Archaic. I'm right with you. We're all we have left even if you don't know it. You are my everything now." The woman said in a motherly tone of voice, tears slowly slipping down her cheeks and falling off her chin. "I-I j-just... don't leave?" She slowly shook her head, hair slowly shifting around. "Never, Archaic. I'll stay by your side as long as I have to if it means you'll have somebody too." She responded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She soon felt the warmth of thin fingers finding their way to her hip. Her small frame felt a gentle tug forward towards him, hands falling to wrap themselves around his neck. Gwen welcomed the hug offered to her, grip tightening slightly. "Please don't go..."She had never actually hugged somebody other than Quintin until this point. Never saw the point of offering affection to someone who was going to leave. To someone who would never understand her. To somebody that could never love her like he did. But... now Archaic was her rock in a way. He would understand. He knew her like Quintin had.... Slowly burying her facials into the place with his neck and shoulder met, forehead pressing against him, she whispered. "Never..."Words: 1447 Tags: @archeratkinson by SPARROWMuse: Nightingale by Demi LovatoNotes: Omfg JUST KISS ALREADY I SWEAR XD You could be my Sanity [/presto] |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 4, 2015 17:37:56 GMT
it's so loud inside
Always in a rush, never stay on the phone long enough. Why am I so self-important? Said I see you soon, that was, oh, maybe a year ago. Didn't know time was of the essence. So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. As I drown, in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. I never said, I can't take back the words I never said. Always talking shit, took your advice and did the opposite, just being young and stupid. I haven't been all that you could have hoped for, oh but if you'd held on a little longer, you'd have had more reason to be proud.
He hated himself for what he was, what he would be, and nothing that the feminine could do would ever change his mind. The philosophy of life was that anybody could die at any moment, the tragedy of life being the fact that he hadn't, so full of broken thoughts that nobody could repair. Nobody could possibly begin to comprehend how much he missed the pale man; he tried to admit to himself that he didn't. Nobody knew that each time he woke up, he still thought of the dishevelled man. He still thought of him and really did miss him. He'd give up everything he had just to see his face, just once more. He didn't want to be everything to everyone, he just... Wanted to be something to someone. But he never expected the world to be fair to him because he was fair to it, not anymore; that was like telling a lion not to eat you because you didn't eat him. We lived alone, we died alone; anything else was simply an illusion. Maybe it was simply what he deserved. Maybe it was his punishment for not being there. For breaking his promise to be right there with Quintin.
Her unexpected snap, within the otherwise vulnerable state of mind he was wrapped up within, drew a visible flinch from the mongrel shifter. His skull dropped, as did his gaze, wincing at the thought of festering hatred growing inside her, her words driving another stake through his heart. The fact that he could do nothing was the thing destroying him, couldn't she see that? He opened his mouth briefly so as to say something, though no words left him, jaw clamping shut once again, far too terrified at the thought of growing hate for him. His glassy, darkly toned irises surveyed the terrain below, releasing a shuddering exhale, "I-I'm s-sorry..."
His irises reluctantly returned to the feminine upon her shaking her head, her request causing his eyebrows to furrow, casting her an uncertain glance. His heart was constantly in his mouth, no matter how softly she spoke, or how gentle her touch was, his frame fully tensed, as if in preparation for harm. "I k-know exactly w-what I-I'm saying. G-Gwen... I... should have been right there with him." If only for a moment, his voice stopped its wavering, holding her gaze. He believed everything he said, everything he thought; he should have been right alongside that man, he'd promised he would be.
Forcing wracking sobs back into his throat, glassy crimson irises did no more than stare into watered blue pools of her own eyes, desperately searching her irises. His ribcage shuddered with another wavering exhale and scolding inhale of oxygen, limbs trembling violently, though his gaze remained fixated on her facials, meeting her small smile with his own forced one. He hesitated briefly, before his trembling hand lifted in effort to gently caress the femine's cheek, running his thumb tenderly across her facials in effort to remove the streaks of wetness, allowing the sensation of touching her delicate flesh to calm his pounding heart. Soon, his touch fell away, instead moving to tug her frame closer to his own, his grip tightening slightly on her waist as her arms shifted around his neck. His own skull rested over her shoulder, squinting his glassy irises shut, savouring the feminine's warmth in comparison with the constant numbness. His tense frame relaxed slightly though as an odd sensation rose within his throat, he was forced to tense again, and abruptly pulled away from the woman to give in to a fit of harsh, wracking coughs that convulsed his frame with each, bringing pain soaring through his throat and ribcage, sides heaving. By the time they finally left him, his breath came in desperate, rasped inhales for oxygen, resting the back of his head against the wall. "Fuck..."
So many questions, but I'm talking to myself. I know that you can't hear me anymore, not anymore. So much to tell you, and most of all goodbye. But I know that you can't hear me anymore. It's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said. And as I drown in my regrets, I can't take back the words I never said. The longer I stand here, the louder the silence, I know that you're gone, but sometimes I swear that I hear, your voice when the wind blows. So I talk to the shadows, hoping that you might be listening, 'cos I want you to know that it's so loud, inside my head, with words that I should have said, I never said. I never said. I can't take back the words I never said, I never said.
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MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0 |
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Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster
Shifter
~Being broken is simply the first step to being fixed~
Posts: 20
200x300 avatar: http://orig15.deviantart.net/2bc5/f/2015/267/0/a/c453b6db_3567_4fb0_97f8_5678db731940_zpsdgnvprug_by_xanimalgirl345667x-d9at1x8.jpg
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Post by Gwendolyn Rosetta Foster on Apr 26, 2015 23:00:16 GMT
[presto] Can you be my Nightingale Gwendolyn knew too well of pain. Of the agony one can inflict onto another. She knew of the guilt, the regret all too well, like the back of her hand. She could remember what it felt like to have your head pounding from listening to the wailing, your eyes burning from the stinging tears that had stopped flowing because there were no more tears. As if any tissue or doctor to save her from the impending and darkening insanity, waiting until she gave up. Maybe she already had and maybe she just couldn't find the motivation to do anything, let alone help herself or anybody around her. Perhaps nobody could be saved from the agony that would inflict on everybody, maybe she could never be allowed to live, like her heart could never begin to beat again. But now things were different. She wasn't the only one in pain. She wasn't alone anymore, she wasn't the only one gaining new scars over the old ones. But, has anything changed? She was still crying. Still dying inside, still denying that this was all just a nightmare and she'd wake up to see Quintin's precious face. Denial was such an evil enemy, we all know that everything was happening but we were so blind to see that it has already passed over, already done and gone. She just wanted to have Quintin back. His love kept her going, gave her motivation to get something more than just mediocre. He was the only thought that would ever pass through her mind day and night. He was all she would dream about for there was nothing more soothing than his presence, nothing in her life that would give her happiness for there were so other sunshine in her life. She knew of no other joy, no other love, no other affection or hope. Perhaps things had changed for the better. They may be grieving but Quintin... he was in a better place. He wouldn't know of coldness or darkness, nor cruelty or harshness. He could be free. She could continue on knowing Quintin was happier somewhere else.. never mind her. She didn't matter for a fraction of time, when nobody needed her. When nobody wanted to see her nor knew of her. It was if she was non-existant, like nobody knew. But guess nothing changed right? Nobody knew of her. Nobody could ever understand what she was nor how she came to exist. Maybe nothing would ever change, maybe the brighter future was slowly coming towards her. And maybe one day, she too, would be set free from this hell. However the past was irrelevant. The story had been set in stone and she couldn't change the written words. Right now what was important was Archaic. She had now made it her duty to protect him and make sure no harm would come to him, for he was precious to her now more than ever. He could disappear like a ghost any moment and she could not allow it to happen. If he was ever a ghost, he wasn't now. Not anymore. The whole world could forget he existed or never knew he lived, but she would always know. She always remembered those who left her... Her eyes watched his head drooped to the floor, the sound of his sharp wince reaching her ears. Guilt gripped at her shattered heart, swallowing down the lump of regret stuck in her throat. He was the one in most pain... she couldn't be snapping at him now. "I-I'm s-sorry..." Her eyes glanced away briefly. "It's not your fault Archaic... you can't be to blame. You don't listen to your own words." She muttered, a hand dragging over her facial features briefly. "I k-know exactly w-what I-I'm saying. G-Gwen... I... should have been right there with him." Her eyebrows furrowed with almost frustration at seeing the faint uncertainty in his gaze, meeting his own orbs with her blue gaze. "...How can you deny what you know? How can you not listen to yourself? You think you know what you're saying... but you're dead wrong. Tell me, weren't you there when he died? Were you not there when he went into the woods? Did you not go after him? You're not to blame. You didn't kill him. Quintin knows it, I know it, for god's sake why can't you? You say it couldn't be stopped, so why can't you believe your own words?" She couldn't let him believe he was to blame without doing something. How could such a sweet and broken man be to blame for the murder of his best friend? It didn't add up... then again... what did anymore? Listening to each sob, each shiver of his body made her mind only crack further. Made her walls came crashing down as the tears kept streaming down her face. Her hands slowly raised to cup his cheeks softly. She watched the agony tremble in his eyes, felt his muscles contracting and tensing beneath his flesh. "Shhh... it's okay." Her thumb wiped away his tears, her own droplets falling off her jawline as they slipped down to the ground. She embraced the man in an effort to comfort him. She listened to his beating heart... sometimes, we must bleed to know we were still alive. The alert of his ill presence was brought up as he began to cough violently. She slowly shuffled back awkwardly to give him room to breathe. She listened to his desperate breathing, the shaky and croaking sounds of inhales and exhales. She had to care for him, even if it meant that she would have to carry him... She'd done it with Quintin, she could do it with Archaic. Slowly rising to her feet, she shifted into her mythical form, her body changing rapidly as her limbs extended and bones shifted. Wings broke through her back and she shook out her head naturally. "Let me help." She whispered to him before she nosed her muzzle to the back of his shirt and clamped her teeth down on the material. Her head raised with a grunt of effort, heavy breathing puffing through her nose. Quickly she jogged through the hallway and to the couch, laying him down. Shaking out her skull, she shifted back into her human form (clothed of course, she aint nasty like that) and went to go get some medicine from the bathroom. Her hands shuffled through the cans and objects in the medicine cabinet, looking for something to ease his pain. He must have something in here.. there had to be a pain killer.. anything just to stop his agony. And while no medicine could help depression, she could at least soothe his physical pain for the time being. Grabbing a bottle of the tablets, she hurried back to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. "Uh.... h-here." She stammered, trying to be as quick as possible. Setting down the water and a couple of pain killer on the table next to the furniture she had laid the man down, she went back to go grab something from the fridge. Peering through the appliance, she snatched an orange and went back to offer it to the ill man. "Please... eat something."Words: 1254 Tags: @archeratkinson by SPARROWMuse: Nightingale, Fix A Heart, All Of The Stars, If I Die Young, The Climb, Notes: Sorry this isn't as sappy as it should be DX You could be my Sanity [/presto] |
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