feather of lead, still-waking sleep — arcadia & vin, day 5

fox
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but a butt ?

feather of lead, still-waking sleep — arcadia & vin, day 5 Dec 15, 2023 21:14:25 GMT -5

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Post by fox on Dec 15, 2023 21:14:25 GMT -5

in my hands, i hold the bound book. the vial hangs free, touches the pages. the dark liquid, flower glass, it refracts in the light.

something leaks from me.

i am looking over my shoulder. to watch her climb onto the stage with the blade gripped in a hand. tremors in my chest. the piece of metal rubs against a bone. i feel misshapen. my palm, bandaged, rests in my lap like a reminder.

a god must be fed.

the pit widens.

what it feels like to want, to be a person.

“i read it.”

they die for love.

what is the difference between love and death, love and violence. when i was little, i think i loved everything i had to kill. the fear, which feels like anger. the shame, which feels like fear. the wanting, so much like shame.

black fate, fortune's fool. our passage again and again, where the poison was laid. my thumb rests on the spine of it.

“Antigone is dead.”

the cannon was swallowed by fire. but i know.

i know when she looked at me.

the beams are cold. or maybe i am, rigid against the long shivers falling off my hands. when i stopped Roe's glaive, i was only thinking this,

“i think you are supposed to kill him.”

table: dars

vin scavenges Makeup Room
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ines izar d11a 🖤 cait
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if looks could kill

feather of lead, still-waking sleep — arcadia & vin, day 5 Dec 15, 2023 22:25:35 GMT -5

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Post by ines izar d11a 🖤 cait on Dec 15, 2023 22:25:35 GMT -5

I think I’m finished crying.

The hall is empty; I am alone. There’s only ghosts of mutated body parts and blonde-haired wild-eyed girls.

I hold a key in my hand, stolen from Tigs’ body before she had been extracted from the Arena. The trapdoor under the stage had sighed in relief when I inserted the wirey metal into the lock – as if it remembered me, remembered the scent of my blood on the floor. In there, I’d felt closer to Tigs. Closer to Wolf, too.

She’s dead now, too. I’d seen her face. Felt the rush of the chill down my spine as she held my gaze for those silent five seconds. I don’t know where the ache in my chest ends for Tigs and starts for Wolf. Jack is lost in the mix somewhere too, along with Mateo, and the weight of remembering is so

fucking

heavy.

Takes all of my strength to crawl out from the gallows and emerge back on the stage.

They’re waiting for me. Inevitable fates, these are ours.

“I read it.”

The cloth-bound book is held gingerly in their hands. Like it’s seconds away from combustion, and we’re both wary of that. We’ve seen the damage a flame can do.

“Antigone is dead.”

I close my eyes. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to cry any more than I already have.

I open my eyes. Vin stares at me, muted gaze. I am not Antigone. I am not the source of their hatred, but Vin should be the source of mine.

Something like betrayal flutters in my chest. It goes both ways.

“I think you are supposed to kill him.”

Yes. I think so, too.

What is love, what is death, what is hate.

“I need to kill you all.”

I need to kill you, too.

DARS

scavenges interview stage

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Last Edit: Dec 15, 2023 22:42:13 GMT -5 by ines izar d11a 🖤 cait

i always used to be into writing sort of modern abstract
lyricism stuff (that were like) slight vague indications of a feeling.

fox
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but a butt ?

feather of lead, still-waking sleep — arcadia & vin, day 5 Dec 16, 2023 2:30:28 GMT -5

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Post by fox on Dec 16, 2023 2:30:28 GMT -5

i need to kill you all,

“i know.”

this story.

i know.

for the last time, i hold her hand. the book closed.

remember the first time.

three days ago, we held on to our convictions. i was still learning to let go of things long before it happened.

i whispered Sindri's name in the hall. for six years, i thought about the day he would leave me. how long i was allowed to have him.

the recitation of myth goes on. the hand of the battle igniter, the light hums through her bones. i have heard all there is to hear about her name. she is more than blood.

i look at her, ash in her hair. eyes heavy.

sometimes she feels only like a girl.

she must kill him. i am thinking how i am being ruined. the pit. the love of a god, in its inexhaustible greatness. dripping wet, tasting of nausea. they called it holiness, i could never hold down. now, it cannot fill me.

the body asks the lungs to breathe.

“i can't let you,” i admit.

i brush her hair from her eyes, tucked behind her ear. midsummer still, despite everything. "i wanted there to be nothing between us." my hand falls from her. say goodbye. say i will never see you again. say an oath that will be a lie.

"there always was. one of us must die."

table: dars

vin scavenges Interview Stage
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ines izar d11a 🖤 cait
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if looks could kill

feather of lead, still-waking sleep — arcadia & vin, day 5 Dec 16, 2023 10:56:35 GMT -5

Quote

Post by ines izar d11a 🖤 cait on Dec 16, 2023 10:56:35 GMT -5

I try to stop them from touching me. I want to warn them, I’m freezing over. I don’t hold the same warmth I did a few days ago, and I cringe away from my own iciness. But Vin finds me anyway, meeting my clammy grip with their own. The blonde hair, the pale skin; the cold blood, the uncertainty in our eyes. We are alike in too many ways.

But only one of us can live. For that, we are worlds apart.

“I can’t let you.”

“You can’t stop me.”

The hair leaves my face, and I fight the urge to close my eyes against the motion. I squeeze Vin’s hand tighter to keep from falling.

“I wanted there to be nothing between us.”

My feet move forward of their own accord. That invisible rope pulling us together once more – it will never know tautness. I will sever it myself before it has the chance to. I know now: this is the only way we can be separated.

“One of us must die.”

I thought as much. I knew this. But I don’t want to be there for the end of his world.

“I don’t want to kill you.”

But I will. If I have to.

I think I have to. That is how the story ends.

“I’ll leave,” I whisper into the disappearing space between our faces. “We’ll never see each other again. That’s the deal.” The implication hangs off my words: don’t follow me, or I will kill you.

I know I’m a fool for trying to rewrite a tale already laid out in the stars. Romeo and Juliet could never be apart – not in life, not in death. Why should we get a different ending?

There’s no space left between us. Vin’s wish came true, the numb thought I have as I lean in to them, propelled by gravity. I guess some endings are inevitable.

“Close your eyes.”

I’m scared I’ve forgotten how to kiss someone. As if the Arena could have altered my brain chemistry far enough to erase my entire past. But muscle memory reminds me who I am – like the swing of a sword; like a too-wide, white-teethed smile; like the squeeze of a hand.

The world is quiet, for those tiny, motionless moments where we meet in the middle. Skin touches skin, the gentlest of unions. I don’t remember a kiss as timid as this.

Everyone you kiss dies.

The vial of poison clatters to the floor, and the silence is broken. I pull away first. We hold each other for a little longer than we should.

I hope I never see them again.

“It was a blessing to know you, Eyvindr Forrester.”

DARS

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Last Edit: Dec 16, 2023 11:02:13 GMT -5 by ines izar d11a 🖤 cait

i always used to be into writing sort of modern abstract
lyricism stuff (that were like) slight vague indications of a feeling.

fox
Graphics

1,369 POSTS

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last seen May 19, 2024 23:42:28 GMT -5

but a butt ?

feather of lead, still-waking sleep — arcadia & vin, day 5 Dec 16, 2023 22:30:10 GMT -5

Quote

Post by fox on Dec 16, 2023 22:30:10 GMT -5

close your eyes, she is saying.

my chest hurts. something like a moth, chewing into fabric.

we are on the bed. we are laid in the grove of flowers in the long breath of summertime. we let time wither. we drink in the sun. i could sleep forever. softer, no martyring. no heroes. no sacrifice. you do not have to kill him. i do not have to die.

in the old language, you earn your name the birds keep singing. the bones of the kings, beaks full of smoke, ash in your halls. like teeth, i pull out the vulgar want in me. you must kill him. i let you.

but i know.

we are not people who would live for eachother. we are not people who would die for eachother.

not lovers. it does not work.

but she leans in.

but i hold her face, as if my hands aren’t filthy with the taint of ash. and i let her touch me, like i have been more than a handle to a knife.

close your eyes,

okay.

the squeeze of her hand.

okay.

funny, all this time. i thought it would be something painful.

another kind of rite.

in the end, it does not feel sickening. it does not feel like a belly of glass. not something to bear. like all the other holy rituals. i did not know. that there is a first time that feels very gentle.

i tilt, touch my forehead to hers.

“it was a blessing to know you, Eyvindr Forrester.”

untamable expanse of her eyes, darkened like a moody thunderstorm of summer.

she pulls away.

i hold onto it. only a fragment, slipped inside me. to know this, even buried in a thousand years, it was real.

it was real.

"goodbye Arcadia."

table: dars

Last Edit: Dec 16, 2023 22:30:41 GMT -5 by fox