run, little visions ♱ delphi&ephron

run, little visions ♱ delphi&ephron May 3, 2023 12:15:00 GMT -5

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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?"

run, little visions ♱ delphi&ephron May 12, 2023 19:44:11 GMT -5

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Post by alex 🐺 on May 12, 2023 19:44:11 GMT -5

She notices two things: the setting sun illuminates the chapel’s weather vane when the onyx haze flees from her eyes and her mouth tastes like iron.

She’s leaning against Ephron and he smells like freshly washed linen and a hint of sage. He must have been making wreaths again for the coming Reaping’s festivities. She tries to ask him but like always, her tongue sits heavy in her mouth like a stone. Sandpaper drags against her throat as she breathes.

It’s been getting worse lately, after.

She used to stumble home before a boy caught her one day as she listed like a boat in a torrent, face first into the dirt. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close and she knew she wanted it forevermore. That she wanted him forevermore.

Tonight, Ephron’s strong and sure frame wraps around her like the foundation of a house and he guides her home. She’s the compass to his star. He knows she would follow him anywhere.

It isn’t until later that she wakes up, the scent of dying moons and shadows deep, and she calls out for him.

He can’t be far - the cabin is large by the standards dictated by the Father, but even as a Divine, modesty is dictated. Ephron somehow always hears her.

His steps echo on the wooden floors, his smile shy from the doorway. She holds an arm out and he joins her, his movements a practiced dance as he slips onto his side, turning her face towards his as he brushes her bangs out of her eyes. She knows that he can still feel the fever dream upon her skin. Invisible scars in the aftermath, piling up on themselves and washed clean each morning.

And with every touch of his fingers, a new memory awakes.

"Well, hello there, my Divine. You seemed worse than usual, I didn't expect you to wake before dawn this time."

A pause and a breath and she knows the question that’s coming. He can read it on her face, in her walk, and in the slow way she breathes beneath his touch.

"What did they do to you, Delphi?"

All she is is a false god, a cracked deity, a puppet for the whims of man. Salvation and ruination course through her veins each inhale and exhale. Heretic. Seer. Giver. Destroyer.

“The money we could make if I could at least remember the visions, Ephi,” she sighs, laying her forehead against his chest just to feel his heartbeat like a metronome. “But…” she begins, weighing her words because silence means safety for both of them.

“It felt different this time. The Father was agitated during the ceremony. I…I don’t know what he wants from Him, from me.” Delphi lifts her head, his eyes like honey and oat grass.

“How can I succeed if I can’t remember what I’m saying? What He’s saying through me?”