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..21 Spring, 515
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..21 Spring, 515
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It was dark, and it was raining, yet through the mist of falling water, Zhol could see the smouldering echoes of what he had done. Damp grass and mud eagerly soaked into the knees of his pants where he had crumpled to the ground in despair. The shouts, the blame, the accusations, rang out from all directions like the raging rumbles of a thunderstorm, but there were no reassuring flashes of lightning, no glimpses of what was out there in the dark. He knew it was his family that taunted him; their voices were burned into his memory. Without a single sight of them though, they might as well have not been there; gone from him entirely.
The rain pummelled the crackling ruins into simmering embers, and then into nothing but wisps of smoke. The light faded further, the blackness wrapping around him, threatening to envelop him, to drown him like a massive wave. The feeling from his legs was gone; the sensation of sodden ground had disappeared completely. Suddenly he was falling, tumbling, drowning in the rain-filled night, descending onward into oblivion.
Light stabbed suddenly through the night, so bright that he could barely see it. Confusion swept across his face, his fingers rising to his lips, some strange feeling upon them. The rain had stopped. The blackness was fading. Zhol looked up, and peered into the sun.
His eyes fluttered open, and in an instant his only reaction was to smile. His vision knew her before his sleep-plagued eyes had even finished blinking the tiredness away. There she was: his smiling dawn; his beautiful sunrise; his light; his love; his sun. "My Syna," he whispered gently, his night-cracked voice not allowing much more of a sound than that.
As conscious made it's slow march into his mind, the tingle of pleasant sensation on his lips made him realise that she had kissed him. He smiled a little more, though inside he was conflicted: usually a good morning kiss was his way of waking her; he hadn't realised until now how bittersweet it was to know that it had happened before you were awake enough to appreciate it, and made a mental note to always kiss Khara again, as soon as she awoke.
"I thought I would be awake first," he managed to say, forcing out the words with a slight groan. He wasn't ready to move yet: his muscles didn't want to let him, and his heart was just fine with that. He couldn't imagine a single thing that would fill him with any kind of urgency to leave her arms. Contentment broadened his smile. "If this is how you're going to wake me though, I might have to let you start doing it more often."
It was dark, and it was raining, yet through the mist of falling water, Zhol could see the smouldering echoes of what he had done. Damp grass and mud eagerly soaked into the knees of his pants where he had crumpled to the ground in despair. The shouts, the blame, the accusations, rang out from all directions like the raging rumbles of a thunderstorm, but there were no reassuring flashes of lightning, no glimpses of what was out there in the dark. He knew it was his family that taunted him; their voices were burned into his memory. Without a single sight of them though, they might as well have not been there; gone from him entirely.
The rain pummelled the crackling ruins into simmering embers, and then into nothing but wisps of smoke. The light faded further, the blackness wrapping around him, threatening to envelop him, to drown him like a massive wave. The feeling from his legs was gone; the sensation of sodden ground had disappeared completely. Suddenly he was falling, tumbling, drowning in the rain-filled night, descending onward into oblivion.
Light stabbed suddenly through the night, so bright that he could barely see it. Confusion swept across his face, his fingers rising to his lips, some strange feeling upon them. The rain had stopped. The blackness was fading. Zhol looked up, and peered into the sun.
* * *
His eyes fluttered open, and in an instant his only reaction was to smile. His vision knew her before his sleep-plagued eyes had even finished blinking the tiredness away. There she was: his smiling dawn; his beautiful sunrise; his light; his love; his sun. "My Syna," he whispered gently, his night-cracked voice not allowing much more of a sound than that.
As conscious made it's slow march into his mind, the tingle of pleasant sensation on his lips made him realise that she had kissed him. He smiled a little more, though inside he was conflicted: usually a good morning kiss was his way of waking her; he hadn't realised until now how bittersweet it was to know that it had happened before you were awake enough to appreciate it, and made a mental note to always kiss Khara again, as soon as she awoke.
"I thought I would be awake first," he managed to say, forcing out the words with a slight groan. He wasn't ready to move yet: his muscles didn't want to let him, and his heart was just fine with that. He couldn't imagine a single thing that would fill him with any kind of urgency to leave her arms. Contentment broadened his smile. "If this is how you're going to wake me though, I might have to let you start doing it more often."
"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
Dad Thoughts | Dinah Thoughts | Khara Thoughts
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This template was made by Khara, the letter Q, and the numbers 87 and 13.