run, little visions ♱ delphi&ephron
May 3, 2023 12:15:00 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on May 3, 2023 12:15:00 GMT -5
It is near dusk when his wife is finally released, and he hates it so.
Through the dark of disbelief, Ephron finds salvation in the company of Delphi. By their design, she has always been a tortured soul, he sees it like an aura around her. A light violet, something akin to a budding lavender flower, but when he catches sight of her, there is nothing. They drain the life out of her, no matter how willful she is against it, and he has made it a habit to carry her home after. To wait and wait until she is dismissed, and she collapses to his chest, resting in his arms as they, as one, trek from one side of the commune to the other.
Since their marriage, his mother had built them a cabin of their own, befitting that of his Divine wife. It is built of cobblestone and consummation, and the smell of peonies greet him at the front door. Hank's flowers an ever present guest in their home, he sets Delphi on her feet as they take place on the porch, surrounded by terracotta pots. She waivers, pivoting on her heels asunken to her own exhaustion, and Ephron rushes to open the front door and guide her inside.
He holds her by the shoulder as they make their way, slowly, to their bed. It's almost instantaneous that his wife collapses on its spring mattress, curling into herself without much sense of the world and he waits for a moment at the foot of the bed, wondering how much more of this she can take. Being the Oracle is strenuous, with each passing session placing more and more of a strain on her. He watches as she deteriorates and rebuilds, and deteriorates again.
In a way, she is all he has. All he wants. There is a beacon aside her that always calls him home, no matter how he wishes to leave the commune.
Once it's clear she is unconscious, Ephron busies himself with the chores of the house until she calls for him once more. It's a remedy to the soul, hearing her voice whenever she comes to, as if it is enough to banish his woes altogether. He stands in the doorway at first, observing her until she notices him waiting and stirring in her half-awoken state. It's then that he takes to the side of the bed, sitting next to her and sorting her hair out from her face. "Well, hello there, my Divine," he says, the baritone of his voice as low as ever.
"You seemed worse than usual, I didn't expect you to wake before dawn this time." He admits, as if it wasn't worrying him so. He looks at her kindly, despite the bitter thoughts of the father plaguing his mind. His loyalties lay not in him, but of her.
"What did they do to you, Delphi?"
