08-28-2010, 06:07 AM
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Table by Requiem
300+
His lavender eyes narrowed as she spoke her words and took a disapproving pose. While it was in many ways wonderful to see her care, he wished she wouldn’t. He feared what was happening to him, but continued to soothe his own mind with various excuses for his strange sleeping pattern. If this was trauma from the war, he should be grateful that it was not much worse. Life had been cruel to this male for most of his life and yet he had managed to hold on to his own sanity and keep the darkness inherited from his father’s blood at bay. For Conor did not doubt that there was a dark taint within him; deep where not even he could detect it. He feared that; feared that his father’s insanity would follow him and change him into a monster similar to the one that had destroyed so many lives here.
She seemed to lose herself as his question rose. Silence met him, and this worried him more than words could. Yet, he too remained silent; waiting for the words that he knew eventually would rise. They trusted each other. When she finally spoke, he could feel bad anticipation start to rise within his chest. She just.. what? The smile that had danced upon his lips this short session slowly lost its brightness and soon disappeared as worry replaced the good feeling he had carried around with him ever since the evening they been seated under the stars. Perhaps she did not want to upset him, but the male was already alarmed by now. How easy it was for this female to unsettle him. The thought brought certainty to another matter, and he could feel his chest tighten slowly and mercilessly.
She turned, stepped away from him and towards the window. The absence of her face left him cold and lonely. Words finally rose to explain then. As her words died in the stillness of the room, he could feel fury start to whip his inner walls. What did this mean? Did the coyote attack her? ”Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice contorted; no longer soft—instead sharp as a whip. This was a breach of etiquette and he did not take the offered news well at all. Invented imaged flashed before his eyes; horrible images. They had lost so many already. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Bris. Everyone in his life had disappeared one way or the other. He couldn’t lose her as well.
His lavender eyes narrowed as she spoke her words and took a disapproving pose. While it was in many ways wonderful to see her care, he wished she wouldn’t. He feared what was happening to him, but continued to soothe his own mind with various excuses for his strange sleeping pattern. If this was trauma from the war, he should be grateful that it was not much worse. Life had been cruel to this male for most of his life and yet he had managed to hold on to his own sanity and keep the darkness inherited from his father’s blood at bay. For Conor did not doubt that there was a dark taint within him; deep where not even he could detect it. He feared that; feared that his father’s insanity would follow him and change him into a monster similar to the one that had destroyed so many lives here.
She seemed to lose herself as his question rose. Silence met him, and this worried him more than words could. Yet, he too remained silent; waiting for the words that he knew eventually would rise. They trusted each other. When she finally spoke, he could feel bad anticipation start to rise within his chest. She just.. what? The smile that had danced upon his lips this short session slowly lost its brightness and soon disappeared as worry replaced the good feeling he had carried around with him ever since the evening they been seated under the stars. Perhaps she did not want to upset him, but the male was already alarmed by now. How easy it was for this female to unsettle him. The thought brought certainty to another matter, and he could feel his chest tighten slowly and mercilessly.
She turned, stepped away from him and towards the window. The absence of her face left him cold and lonely. Words finally rose to explain then. As her words died in the stillness of the room, he could feel fury start to whip his inner walls. What did this mean? Did the coyote attack her? ”Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice contorted; no longer soft—instead sharp as a whip. This was a breach of etiquette and he did not take the offered news well at all. Invented imaged flashed before his eyes; horrible images. They had lost so many already. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Bris. Everyone in his life had disappeared one way or the other. He couldn’t lose her as well.