fall back {down} to where you're {from} // [Chaos]
Jan 5, 2013 23:10:33 GMT -5
Post by wimdy on Jan 5, 2013 23:10:33 GMT -5
There is a numbness settled deep in the marrow of my bones, wrapped around the sinewy stretch of my muscles, swirled in the pit of my stomach. It has encased me in a fog of unresponsiveness, my every sense dulled to perceive only a small amount of the world around me. My vision is fuzzy and dark, the colors of the night swirling together to create a pit of bleak barriers. My hearing is distant, the sounds an inseparable twist of noise swirling in my head. My everything feels wrong. The world turns and I am spun backwards, twirling in contrast and becoming unstable twice as fast. I feel as if my world has been warped beyond recognition.
It is late and the streets are dark as the depths from whence I came. Shadows cling to the walls, beckoning me closer with whispered promises and wispy curls of their fingers. Glowing eyes are settled withing the deep winding alleys before me, searching for something, anything, to feed from. The sheer depravity here is hard to ignore, just like the weight settled in my chest, the sloshing in my lungs that sets me on edge. The river swims in me with every move I make, water spewing from my mouth in waves of illness, spilling black with the sins of those cleansed in its depths. The world purges itself of sin continually, but perhaps I am to keep the cycle flowing, littering the streets with the very sickness it so fought to destroy. The world cannot function properly without the corruption it despises, without the stain of society blossoming thick and dark upon the fabric of life like a pattern. We are all destined for darkness and I am no different, merging with the shadows around me.
Water sprays across my feet and legs with every step, my dress soaked thoroughly from my cleansing. Each move I make send a shiver up my spine, lodging in bones and making my skin crawl with sickly bumps. One of my shoes is gone, lost to the water and her secrets. Dirt clings to the soggy sock that's left, turning it brown and ripping at it the longer and farther I walk. My hair has fallen from the neat bun on the back of my head to frame my face, spindling down like icicles and stabbing across my upper back with the chill of the night. It sticks to my face and neck, weaves into knots when I try to pull it away. In my hands is my chess board, dry and army-less. I left the house looking for a fight, but there are no warriors to hold the charge, no bodies to cause the war. Kiera is already gone, not dead, she can never be dead to me, no. She is no captain any longer.
My shoulders feel heavy, sagging as my body moves ever forward, following the stray bits of light that the darkness of my eyes chooses to see. The meandering paths of the city are littered with dead souls, but not a single one looks upon me. Their eyes are trained ever forward, for once. I am no longer a child of life as they envied. I have fallen down to my place, stepped down from the mighty podium I had taken up, and crawled into the wretched bleakness of Tartarus, my heart gone to the water. I can feel their pain now, feel the ache of life like a wound in my side, dug deep and unbearable. My eyes stay fixed upon the broken ground below me, ready to swallow me whole with its hellfire and brimstone. There is a fiery pit waiting for me somewhere, waiting for all of us, and it taunts me with it's crowing barks of damnation. I can feel my gut boil from the heat of it, my eyes watering in desperation, and I struggle to stay upright. My body falls heavy upon the wall beside me as I stumble, my sock tearing completely and hanging uselessly around my foot. I rip my eyes from the ground at the sound that resonates from the black alley I lean on the mouth of, a faint light at the end just illuminating a small figure.
My steps are unsteady and unstable as I toe my way down the alley, staring forward at the figure that kneels half in my view, half behind a dumpster. A little girl, life shining dimly in the starless night. I see as the lowlifes do now, see the sliver of life she clings to. An iron smell is rotting the air, getting stronger the farther forward I creep. My breathing is shallow, but my heart hammers faster and faster until it stops. Blair. Oh Blair, what have I done to you? There is a man bathed in crimson just under her, his life seeping out of him in rhythmic waves of cardiac effort. Oh, if only he knew it was just killing him faster, the more he tried to stay alive. It's only seconds before he's gone altogether and then it is just her. Just her.
She looks so fragile, so defeated, even though her form is distorted and her words are unclear. Her knife strikes blow by blow, settling deep within him before ripping out. It's as if she's searching, trying to take back something lost that she cannot live without. I feel as if I'm suffocating again, the water too deep and the blood too thick to run cleanly. She is so broken, baby Blair, and what have I done? She is broken because of me, because of us, because of everything. What kind of sister am I to not see her pain, so clear now in the mixture of agony and death upon her hands? How could I let it get this far? I was supposed to protect them, all of them, but Kiera is lost to the water and Cora to her obsession and Aurora to her rage and Siberia to the quake and now Blair to her pain. How can I fix her now when she is stained, just as I am?
"Blair?" I croak, stepping out from the shadows and into the flickering light. She is so close, but she feels farther than I've ever felt her. Blair has always been distant, but now she feels gone. I just want her back. I just want everything back. One of my hands is clasped to my chest, sandwiching my chessboard against me. The other reaches out to her, offering a life raft in the water. Please, swim closer. Don't be lost to the water too.