Author Topic: Trapped Alive  (Read 4742 times)

generic uke elf

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Trapped Alive
« on: July 24, 2019, 07:14:15 PM »
Entry #1

---

Today was,
(bad)

something happened

I'm not on Toril anymore.

some other place, a scary place, but a different place

I'm free.

how do i do this without dying?
that hasn't happened yet
How can I be like them? I want to be like them. All of them, so strong, valiant, effortless. Shining armor and swords and spears and shields.

It's impossible.

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:33:33 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #1 on: July 24, 2019, 07:53:49 PM »

A quarter of this room is cast with hard and yellow light. It comes from only one place -above, where it beams through a small square to splash across the wall. The rest of the room is made an abyss of shadow due to this contrast, but only the blind would be unable to tell it's made of stone.

A voice croaks from the darkness, in chanting revere words that are very important to him.

"The crastor lies in shade of a house carcass he's squatting in with an old crystal stuck to his forehead, in his mind he strains to see the thousandth line of a prim that doesn't exist in a scape of funland mirrors and true-nameless objects wirring past in a blur faster then his voice can carry."

He inhales, his voice ragged and wet.

"Magic has this quality: Recovered and illuminated, each mystical layer will reveal the whole image of the flower. Falling towards fire, he sees himself in the prim, each of the scattered waves of what could have been revealing a whole he'll never know. Stolen coin purses, a swollen steel burst, burned-out temple planetary conjunctions of a stranger, a cart burning on a tradeway, a paper packet of drugs, a bone blade honed on cobblestone, thin as pain."
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:33:20 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #2 on: July 26, 2019, 11:22:31 PM »

Strained, congested breathing pants in the small room. A sound much like that of wet laundry being beaten against a tile floor, pounds in his ears. His eyes hurt and his body hurts even more, he can see the wall in extreme detail because there is little space to see anything else in this squalid place.

The pain feels so real, so real that it is real. Tears spill across his cheeks, burn his vision and turn what little he does see into an oil painting. The agony rises in molten cracks across his back, it travels up his spine to fill his skull, torch his nerves, tear at his senses. He raises his voice to scream-- and his head is pushed down.

But it rises from the covers of a bed, a nice one someplace else. When reality returns the 'nice' inn room is a different place without the light to fill it, no lovingly crafted woodwork, no beautiful paintings, no tasteful trimmings. A garish prison of jagged edges and oppressive curves, sharp, warped lines which all point to him. Naebum tries to breathe through the vertigo.

Then he buckles forward, he throws the beautiful blankets aside and tries to get up.

But he can't escape the bed in time and nausea forces itself from his face, his stomach turns as the pit of terrified anxiety expands to become a sack-- and he has to puke again.

He watches through syrupy irises as he hacks, and the sick goes up and out, then down. It takes minutes for his voice to return, so in a hoarse whisper he reflects.

"At least none of it is on the..." he rasp-chuckles, rare joy on his pale face.

"...the covers, thank Sehanine." He wasn't entirely correct, there was a drop or two. But what sort of tavern bedding didn't have a drop or two of mysterious fluid on it? He turns, wriggling upon the edge of the mattress, grimacing at the feeling of a lap full of vomit.

He didn't have the money to afford more.

For this nights inn faire, Naebum spent his sleep over a washboard.
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:34:17 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #3 on: July 31, 2019, 10:19:08 PM »

There was a terrible throbbing in his head, blood pounding in his temples. His tired, dark eyes stared into an unending ceiling, caved-in beams that reached, the wooden fingers of demons, into the unknown depths of the structure. Another inn, was what this was. The room stretched on like a highway, the broken light of a candle made varnished wood pale.

The air was cold; but he couldn't draw his tunic closed.

Rain beat against an unseen, last dusty dagger of window glass, shivers ran up his spine. Calimshan steel pressed against a soft, pale forearm, explored, searching for a landing area. The thought of confident, wickedly calm eyes curdled his anticipation.

Agony tweaked across his face, twin dull aches in his eyesockets, sore rough feeling in his mouth and the smell of blood. Having found the place it had to be, the blade drew. It drew out the youth's breath as it dragged across the scarred surface of paper thin flesh. Pain, sharp and real, jolted through his arm.

And blood squirted out. The face flickered, became another face. An obese face with thin lips and a thick, pock mocked cherry nose. His lungs quivered, expelling his feeling in rapid vents of despair, the dagger fell onto the floorboards, a ringing of well crafted metal filling his ears.
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:35:07 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #4 on: July 31, 2019, 10:24:46 PM »


Entry #2

---

Today was,
(bad)

is he gone now?
Probably has more important things.
but i have his money, just liked he asked and other things
He probably has more pressing matters to attend to.

but what about me?

what about me

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:35:16 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #5 on: August 02, 2019, 06:41:28 PM »


Entry #3

---

Today was,
(okay)

Explain yourself.
Is that right? Wanted to see what?
Mithril child, speak.
Ah I see, you have a... The next three words are horribly marred by many many vicious lines across them.
Not the first to feel that way, you know?

A few brown stains, obviously droplets, cover the bottom of the page.

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:35:44 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #6 on: August 06, 2019, 07:21:23 AM »
---
« Last Edit: October 31, 2019, 02:10:55 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #7 on: August 08, 2019, 12:11:15 AM »


Entry #4

---

Today was,
(bad)

red wolf
fangs
pain


scrambling
crying

pain

Learn something interesting, or I'll kill you, and your friend.

I can do it.

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:36:45 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #8 on: August 08, 2019, 12:26:46 AM »

The strength of the wooden door is tested as it swings inwards, thrust open with haste. It slaps against the wooden terraced sandstone wall and dust is expelled from cracks between bricks as Naebum's sickly face rushes into view. He's in the bathroom and it's obvious he barely made it in time.

He buckles over the toilet plate, retching. When vomit comes, it's abrupt and painful, but doesn't last long. When the small elf unfolds himself, he staggers back from the port of the hole, down the stair ringing the polished stone box --and slips.

His frail body reels back, and his skull crashes against something hard. His back slides down the wall until he's on his bottom.

---

A wooden railing runs the face of this construct, the wood is polished and red, a joyous cherry oak. The dual pillars holding it's most important feature concave, an emaciated hourglasses with magic strength to hold such weight. The ring beneath is lustrous unbelievable silver and thick enough to admit a watermelon, some intricate device of arcane complexity is tucked away like the stem of an apple, used to adjust the lovingly laid loop; a simple and solid project of perfect polish fit for anybody.

That loop in half is cold against his neck. It stings, like the moisture in his eyes stings. Through the landscape of distorted brush strokes, a face painted in smaller strokes appears above, the strong body it's attached to holds a cord that must go above him. A well built man whose face is concealed by a hood, which carries two caring eyes accompanied by a soft and jovial voice. This handsome and confident man speaks with the generous composure of a lover-- speaks down to him.

"You're perfect Naebum, my little mouselike friend."  He reaches down and touches his face, a thumb betwixt his lips. His arm curls inwards then-- gently tugging the cord above in a manner one would an arm at a secret moonlit wedding. Such joy fills his heart in this moment-- until every vertebrae of his neck is obliterated by the ornate blade of the guillotine.

A fountain of blood obscures his vision as his head falls, he opens his mouth to scream as he tumbles, and when his vision clears... He's staring at a wall. The wall is so close to his face and the blood on his skin feels so warm, hot enough to burn. A familiar sound echoes in the granite box of a room: a wet slapping of flesh.
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:37:31 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #9 on: August 09, 2019, 08:31:01 PM »

Entry #5

---

Today was,
(?)

i'm waiting, and looked

no note, no direction

I have some things, are they good? I don't know.

I haven't been told if they are--

i'm wondering, if I live

no answer, no answer.

A scribbled sketch, depicting a bonebat, decorates the bottom of the page.


---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:38:00 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #10 on: August 10, 2019, 05:56:40 AM »

Entry #6

---

Today was
(i don't know)

i've done something bad
i've done something bad
i've done something bad
i've done something bad
i've done something bad
ive done something bad

ive dne somthing bad
i did somthing
bad

Mine. I'mand right?

Yes. I have something.

Someone.

someone... who is mine

i washed my hands six times, but they still feel

wrong

my insides hurt

i need to sleep, so i'm going to sleep. what have I done?

MARISKA

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:38:20 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #11 on: August 11, 2019, 07:28:44 PM »

Up dry, creaking stairs he went again. As his fingers closed around the cool brass knob, it seemed to squirm, sliding along a touch spectrum of texture and temperature in the first second of contact. The same room, even the innkeeper seemed to know his nervous face now.

He hated that.

The same bed beckoned him, promising it's sickly sweet lie of perfect sleep in the softness of its quilt. He wriggled his fingers into the iron circle binding his sling to him, and set his black crossbow carefully on the mantle, were it gently fell upon it's metal limb. A 'click' gave clue to it's weight, and Naebum entered the embrace of the bed.

---

Towel around his hips, dripping water, he followed the narrow hallway to his bedroom a tiny, wedge-shaped space at the very back of the house. He didn't remember opening the door, or stepping in. If he knew that the room contained no light he likely wouldn't have. In the abyss he walked, the room was tiny, because it was his-- and he knew at his bedside there was a lantern.

"He treats you so badly, doesn't he?" An older woman said, somewhere in the corner.

His skin rose in goosebumps, his vision was drawn over-shoulder, his hands scrambled across the dresser at his bedside, but he could find no trace of his cast-iron lantern.

"At least..."

Dread consumed him, dread of what was to come-- he didn't want to hear the end of that sentence.

"...it's not me. You've just got to hang in there, alright?"

An orange light flickered across the room, an older woman with sallow skin stood in the corner holding a frying pan, her clothes modest but proper.

"Why are you in my room, Naebum?" She asked, before she approached.

When she stood before him, her face was still unlit and cast in shadow. He opened his mouth to answer her, but was struck over the head anyway. Pain blossomed like a hated rose, and darkness claimed his sight.

The fog lifted from his vision to place him face to face with a granite wall. The wall was typically green, but in this place a harsh, red light awlways lit it, rendering the surface sickly brown. Agony of the happenstance settled in his body, across his back, it burned, stretching through wrists, up his neck. His ability to interpret sound returned to him like a curse, distorting the gruesome noises of slurred impact.

He opened his mouth to scream, then felt hands around it-- crushing, squeezing.

On the second floor of the Lady's rest, down the dimly lit western hall and to the right. Behind a solid door made of beech wood someone wretched and wheezed, and then finally puked.
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:39:08 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #12 on: August 12, 2019, 11:54:04 PM »

Entry #7

---

Today was,
(good)

he received my sketch
didn't even tear it up

looked like he smiled, and his eyes almost did too he put it away,

I will treasure it.

thinks there's a difference

but i don't see one

did i really do that bad thing?

No. It wasn't a dream.

It wasn't a dream.

i've got to wash my hands again

i can feel the dirt and blood and filth, squirming on them again.

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:39:34 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #13 on: August 16, 2019, 11:05:41 PM »

Unseen footsteps visited in gray dawn dreams, nightmares that faded as the sky lightened beyond his second floor inn window. You could smell the lilacs, late at night, and during the time he'd spent reading those fanciful offshoot Alanik Ray novels a bumblebee had ran into his window. The smell of ammonia was strong, just enough to smother the smell of sickness and frailty in an eye-watering blanket. The woman at the bar who tended to his room would have fit neatly enough into one of his nightmares, but he didn't complain.

He wouldn't be here for much longer anyway.

When the dread of potential sleep crept up, the youth found himself wishing for insomnia, whispering to a god he no longer believed in, 'he'd sacrifice arms or legs for it'. Though he began to cry, his body didn't have the strength to keep the vigil of consciousness. Sleep caught him unaware, and the tears dried where they'd slipped down his cheeks.

---

Glowing with the precise definition of museum lithograph, was the knife. The blade was made of dull steel, a charcoal black. It was meant to be this way, for easier concealment but in his hand-- despite being made for a person of small stature, it was too large, too real, its metal warming in the shaft of sun from above.

Soft explosions of light carpeted his vision and a voice to his direct front screamed in crippling pain, but it didn't frighten him. Warmth bloomed across his face, up his hands and wrists. Had he slipped onto the edge of a dagger again? The heat drained down his neck, droplets of the stuff landing on the surface of his thighs. The familiar pool a portal of anxiety-inflicted nausea-- a dry cactus in his stomach.

"Naebum, you marvelous elf."

He knew what it was before he was cured of his blindness, viscera-- a person, bits of organ tissue, soaked and soggy in the warmth of blood. Then in the peripherals of his vision he saw something he did not know, piles of what he had surely made; limp stiff and curled in haphazard horizontal embrace, broken fingers reached towards the sky. A pale orgy of excess stretched in all directions, stained the stone brown and wrong. The narrow corridor of his vision trembled, and he could hear then-- his voice behind the crumpled outstretched fingers.

"No... nono-- no-- no--"

"P-please."
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:40:57 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #14 on: August 16, 2019, 11:49:04 PM »

Entry #8

---

Today was
(bad)

has it been three or four days?

it feels like a fortnight

it feels like a month

when I go out, I can feel the failure he grows tired of, in the voices of others

is 'uh' my favorite word? or just the only word i know how to say

probably

Half smiles and pitying glances, so much sympathy

at least nobody asks those stupid questions anymore

most of them already know the answers.

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:41:19 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #15 on: August 17, 2019, 05:56:44 PM »

Entry #9

---

At the bottom of the last entry a desperate addition has been made. Written in a tight hand, the strokes that form the letters tear paper at their ends, crease and dent.

---

i did what he wanted but i still don't see him

no letters or whispers

nothing telling me where to go
what to do

where is he

WHERE IS HE

WHERE? I WILL DO ANYTHING

PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME

PLEASE APPEAR

PLEASE

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:41:45 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #16 on: August 17, 2019, 10:08:54 PM »

When he'd had enough of it through scream and shock, he untangled his body from the covers. The mirror in his room was enough to encompass the fullness of his height, a height dwarfed by most. He realized with a sort of bare, cutting cynicism that his pretty face could be replicated by any flesh-shaper, Wizard-associate out of Calimshan or some other derelict port. That even his winning of the 'genetic lottery' was in it's own special way, meaningless. He didn't realize how it had kept him in the only trance he could know. Staring at a 'beautiful' face that he for a long while, failed to recognize as his own.

The eyes displayed a pain and an inertia that anyone could read, and most certainly these things would soon be revealed to him. Quavering and sorry, always sorry. He wasn't one of potential employees he had thought, he was the one the one who claimed he was his. Was his. The least likely of people to entirely and fully clog the vacuum where his lack-life was with a something-else purpose. With a conscious, painful effort of will he divorced from the miasma of his thoughts and made for the door, stopping only to retrieve his cloak from the wall.

When he'd left the room a girl in brightly dyed buckskin tights and her boyfriend's tabbard ran into him. His hand swooped down to his coinpurse before their bodies even met the 'accident and it stayed there as he left the inn. He wasn't exactly street savvy, but even abused homunculi like him learned in Calimport. This habit he'd recently fit himself into however was only similar in that he had learned it much in the same capacity. It had been made out of the compulsion generated by all of misery he'd had the extreme ill-fortune to suffer, a desperate dependency upon a feeling he'd only just barely touched the fringes of. An addict, he found that soon he couldn't live without it.

His feet and that feeling had brought him to the corner of the morninglord temple, to his left, a giant obelisk of stone shot upwards, a stone knife attempting to puncture sky at a failing nine feet. His eyes locked on where he had to go and he stared for so long at the spot that he'd seen something. He had, he -had- seen his back. Whipping black cloak stitched with white. He was unfailingly certain, and some unknown recess of his brain biologically adapted to how easy it was to convince it's owner of such an obviously false vision.

"The-- there's... it-- it's got to be there." He said, and wasn't wrong. He dropped to his knees and bent, his bony hands scrambled against rock uncaringly discarding an envelope he'd have to pick up later into the wet idyllically perfect grass. His frantic fingers fumbled through folds, teared open the stiff draftspaper to carefully read. Carefully read-- that was the last thing he had done before falling back, squeezing the neatly folded and swiftly crumpled note against his chest, needily.

He had cried, cried and laughed and felt something like relief radiating from his burning face into the front of his mind, something like happiness.
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:42:20 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #17 on: August 19, 2019, 10:05:05 PM »
Entry #10

---
All that remains of this page is the entry number, the rest has been torn out, sloppily, and discarded.
« Last Edit: August 20, 2019, 04:27:51 PM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #18 on: August 23, 2019, 03:59:36 PM »

Entry #11

---

Today was,
(good)

We got to talk again. I feel whole.

excellent work

excellent, i'm pleased

thank you
thank you
thank you

i did a good job
good job

said things
lots of things

But I didn't...
do the right thing.

lots of flowers
gems
rings
daggers

coward

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:42:47 AM by generic uke elf »

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #19 on: August 23, 2019, 04:09:54 PM »
He didn't have many memories of him, and his brother was one of the things he didnt understand, like some of his father's jokes. Once hed asked his father why he had red hair, where hed gotten it, and his father had just laughed and said hed gotten it from the troll he worked with. Then his mother threw a pillow at his father, and he never did find out who the troll was.

The little elf only became aware he was so deeply lodged back in his brain, when someone had said his name. 'Naebum?' They asked. He blinked, eyes flying open.

There was nobody there. Of course there wasn't, he slept in the tent at the Mist Camp now, there were hardly even the voices of the other adventurers. It was like a dream, find a group of semi-quasi or real, friends. Follow them to a place where acts of violence against creatures and a people he barely understood, granted him the repeated satisfaction of watching his bolts puncture leathery dead flesh, greasy unwashed skin, crash against bone, pierce skulls. Lots of blood, lots of dying.

He heard thunder in the distance, but no rain on the yurt. His eyes flickered open again, and he saw him, standing in the corner, dark and alone, facing away. He could see the back of his head, blackhair, paleskin, deepeyes. Those attributes fired through his mind like dopamine, torched the basal of hyperactive, joyous neurons that compelled him to action. He stood, quickly advanced across the tent, excited and frantic.

But there was nobody there.
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:43:37 AM by generic uke elf »

generic uke elf

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #20 on: August 26, 2019, 10:36:55 PM »
Entry #12

---

Today was,
(good good good)

I know you need me, and I wish to be there for you.

I cannot lose you, Naebum.

Necessary.

my face hurts

threatens to split in two

all of these days have been the phantoms of days

but today was a good day

a good day

Here Naebum seems to have copied an earlier passage, but now a palpable amount of effort has been put into his sloppy calligraphy, it's small and amateurish, but pretty in it's own way-- unbecoming his hand.




---
« Last Edit: December 08, 2019, 10:09:59 AM by generic uke elf »

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #21 on: August 29, 2019, 10:30:06 PM »


His cherrywood crossbow leaned against the wardrobe. The bed was invitingly soft, firm, sturdy, safe-feeling.

After the day, the good, good day sleep found him so easily that he was hardly tortured by the possibility.

---

Scent of alcohol, wings of a moth's back, pain. Naebum can see a mother looking through her window in a country home. In the front lawn of it in the leaves a child plays, and in the distance of this nice place, on the treeline smoke rises. He can see a town, it's architecture lovingly crafted but nobody lives there it seems. Cows roam the town, a herd that nobody prevents. Naebum wanders this place too, the sand there was cold, dry, loose between his toes.

A man and a boy dig a hole in the woods, it's not a very big hole, roughly the size of a pumpkin. They only stop when it's a foot deep, their hands fill their pockets, pulling out countless copper coins. They stuff them into a rag, binding it closed with a knot. The rag of coins goes into the hole, and the boy and man frantically cover it.

When he walks past the forest, the man has vanished and now there is only the boy. He wanders the town, and returns a spade, he sits at the thresholds of houses, waiting for something Naebum doesn't know. Eventually he heads home, the elf follows him still. The boy leads him to his home, and in the front garden he kneels to peel something from the grass. A sweater, and jacket that are often worn together. He holds them to his chest, burying his face, and cries.

Naebum became painfully aware of the anguish he was watching, he had looked away for only a second, but it was then that the boy had left. Clutching the bundle of fatherly garbs against his chest, he looked as though he were sleepwalking, all the energy gone out of him. And soon found his way down into the darker passages of the village. It was in a long stone corridor made from painstakingly cut, smooth stone of a kind he didn't know that he felt it-- a wire-thin hand gripping his ankle, sending him down to the ground.

His face impacted the stone with a grisly crack, and he laid there, feeling his face, crying, while being filled with a strange dread that seemed to have nothing to do with the occurrence at hand. He looked up, for a pale flushed ankle and hand-knit socks. Instead there was only a granite wall, dark and wet. A sound, of wet flesh lapping the surface of wet skin, pained breath, congested, sharp inhalation.

He awoke screaming.
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:46:43 AM by generic uke elf »

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #22 on: September 04, 2019, 06:54:55 PM »

Entry #13

---
Today was,
(Naebum has drawn a tiny bird here.)

I wish i was different

sometimes i look through the entries in this book

or think back on when i got here

and i feel such pangs of regret and disgust

-N

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:47:10 AM by generic uke elf »

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #23 on: September 10, 2019, 02:14:32 AM »

entry #14

---

Today was,
(good)

i did it. all the talking to myself has paid off. haven't left a sign at the place, but can't stop thinking about him anyway.

all i do. can't wait until we meet.

the color looks good, red and dark all over

he'll be so proud.


so proud

---
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:47:37 AM by generic uke elf »

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Re: Trapped Alive
« Reply #24 on: September 12, 2019, 04:36:03 AM »

Night and starry sky, cold air and silent torch flicker. An inn within Vallaki now, the Broken Bell. Candlelight at the foggy window, the surface of his skin raised. Goosebumps and frigid in his stomach. The memory, the memory of the first time in the bed of the wooden box room-- here alone and cold, tears and confusion of all the anguish from his life pouring out. His sordid affairs in that time were behind him but the clawing need in the pit of his stomach that developed after, was not. His mind had sorted through the jumbled elvishness of it all, everything clashing to the forefront to bring him the most pain. A line of consistently sour thoughts. The rejection, the pointed and sharpness of its design. Always no, no more smiles, nor intimacy. No more familiarity now, always terse and rigid and expecting of him.

His skull rocked back against the pillow, dark hair smothered into scarred oaken wood. The surface of lonely green eyes long, thick with sorrow. He had been trying to remember the details of the words from the day and the reference from this one. 'Finishing someone off', the wrongness in the uncaringness of it. It was that backwards thing that was soon accompanied by an image his mind had coveted and been unable to refresh, 'the best sight in this place'. That soft calming voice, the assurance and the love in the dark pits of seen-too-much green eyes. The face, the face he was scolded off the desire of, pieces of it had attached to one another to assemble the perfect image in his memory, one wrought with gaps and blank space and so much blood.

His body had carried itself sideways into a protective curl, a rough pillow coarse on his cheek, moisture wobbled through dark eyes that threatened tear spillage down a grimacing face. All the blood had surfaced into it, brought painful crimson into his cheeks at the recollection, heat in his scalp, and tingling all over the surface of his skin. He didn't remember a hand --his own hand between his thighs. Because the thought of the face in the crypt and the inviolable promises there. The words that sounded like care alongside the genuine article of that elvish experience that had been always denied to him, that he had never touched until then. There it had been given with a price he had believed he would always be able to afford. But he didn't believe it now and he couldn't afford it then, he could only be tormented by the 'what it could be'.

The timidness of his mind was repulsed at all the anger and unspeakable wanting of the fantasy that in seconds ushered in a trembling body body high-- the result of what he wanted more than all the little tropes and normality that all the others had witnessed with their own minute admiration. All the escaping-shell joys, pride and accomplishments they amounted to.

"Nothing."

He didn't finish. His bony body sank deep into the wool covers, denying the euphoric allure and balled in the same way it had months ago. Unaware, he went about imitating the time then again, tears trickled down his face. Silent sobs heard by nobody.
« Last Edit: December 01, 2019, 07:47:58 AM by generic uke elf »