this life has not been good, you see

China Rose Lykoi · 04-18-2011, 10:14 AM

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Wordcount: 3+

His apparent hesitance to hold her was defeated by the girl's pathetic insistence that his warmth be offered. Youthful but lean muscles took her meager weight, unhealthily alike that of her bird of comparison. Wanting to hide from this horrible, cruel world that had hurt and hunted her so, she buried her eyes in his chest, allowing the thick gold to soak up the salt water and be smeared in slight with rusty life-fluid.

Her sliced-up palms were already crusting over. They moved to hang meekly around his neck, limp, stained things. They would require cleaning and bandaging, but the damage was superficial. Her ankle, on the other hand, was sprained - From the ebbing pains, possibly broken. It would hinder her movement for a long time to come. With broken wings, the dove could not fly far from this place.

She sensed him moving, the gentle rocking of her weight as the youth walked with purposeful strides. He did not fear her dreaded darkness, but relished it; this was the traitor's element, as surely as hers was the sun-light skies.

The sense of claustrophobia pulled her scattered attention temporarily to a focus, such that she could tell her guardian had paused - then to movement, descent into maddening walls of cold, hard rock. She was far too frightened to protest, clinging perhaps a little tighter than before. The air was cooler in here, channeled by the hard edges of the darkness. This was not the right place for the injured bird, but she needed safety and security to heal, and perhaps she would find enough of it here. Flickering flamelight caught timid cerulean that, peering from bloodied, blushing face, saw only the ghastly shadow that trailed behind her rescuer.

Her tears had dried for now, replaced by that bone-ebbing exhaustion of before. Sensation returned to extremities, and her palms stung where they left bloody smears on golden pelt.

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