coma|standalone \\ the only light
Jan 26, 2014 8:01:09 GMT -5
Post by анзие (Anz) on Jan 26, 2014 8:01:09 GMT -5
if I could sleep forever
district 6 | 18 | male | Aiden Turner
district 6 | 18 | male | Aiden Turner
[presto]
I'll check in tomorrow
if I don't wake up dead.
It's the moon that brings him out of the warmth of his bed. Naya doesn't venture out at night very often (a part of him worries about danger, but the golden city has never posed any threat to him; why would it be any different in the dark?) But the moon hangs low, large and round, a blank white face just as it is on any other night, gleaming pale (with glee) and beckoning gently to him in tiny (ominous) flickers. Naya's hand rests on the barred window of his single roomed home and raises his eyes to where he thinks the moon's own are.
"You'll hurt me," he says, but there's no reason that the moon will hurt him. What will it do, burn him with its gentle light? He could laugh at himself for even thinking such a thing.
Come and play. Naya wonders what kind of game it's thinking of. The muscle on his back twitches and, absently, he reaches back to rub at it, staring up at the moon.
"I'm tired," he grumbles. "Come on, can we do this in the morning?"
You're never here in the morning!
Naya feels guilt and looks down at his shoes. Okay, fine. He'll go for a walk and maybe his mind will leave him alone.
He stifles a yawn in his hand as he grabs his shirt. As he tugs it over his head, he hears a small noise outside (a gentle crack that causes his entire being to freeze stone cold, his heart to jump into overdrive and his breath to stick in his throat). But when, like a turtle peering out of its shell he pokes his head out, there's no shadow, no nothing.
There are only cobblestoned streets washed with pale moonlight, and a city of gold turned silver.
Shrugging off the nagging feeling of worry, he opens the door and walks.
-
The capital is beautiful even at night, devoid of teeming life of which it's usually abundant. It's a different kind of beauty, Naya has to admit, but one he can possibly get very used to.
(There's an air of rebellion and danger with each step he takes. But it's not like anyone has a hold on him; he's his own man now, living alone.
Yet, as he he's walking down the street in the middle of the night, he feels antsy, like he's doing something wrong. And he's exhausted but his mind wouldn't let him rest. (He has a nagging feeling that he's missing something today, but what's today? He can't remember. When was the last time he knew what day it was anyway? Whatever. He'll check with Ari in the morning.)
But the city is gorgeous, the tall citadel flanked by snow-capped mountains (is it winter? It must be winter; Naya hopes it'll snow) and appearing to gleam with a metallic sheen. Tipping his head back, Naya imagines the tip of the citadel touching clouds.
It feels... freeing, somehow.
-
His feet take him down past the warmly welcoming gates at the entrance of the city. The gates never shut, it seems, even at night; but what do the citizens of the capital have to fear from the dense forest? Not a single threatening sound has been heard from its depths, and so the bird-like children often play at its edges.
Naya hesitates at the end of the road. The path before him is... nothing. Simply green grass, some bent where the birdlings raced over but the forest is new, uncharted territory three meters from where he stands.
Come and play, come and play, the moon urges him, but this isn't the moon anymore, is it? Come play with me, brother!
"Ari?" he says aloud, startled. "What are you doing there?"
I want to play!
"Ari, this isn't funny," Naya says nervously, looking around him. "Come on, I'll bring you home."
His little brother's response is inaudibly a growl that worries Naya just a little bit. He takes steps closer to the forest.
But as his feet touch the yet untried path he hears the unmistakable creak of metal and the gentle thud of a door closing. Naya doesn't have to turn to see that the gates have closed on him, but he does. His heart sinks at the reality.
(He longs to run back and beg them to let him back in.)
"Ari, they've closed the door on us," he calls into the forest, but there's no response. "Ari?"
Beep.... beep...
"This isn't funny," Naya tries again.
... sleeping...
"Ari?"
...wonder... wake?
Naya's eyes widen as a pale figure steps around a nearby tree - no, floats through. It has no face that he can see, only a slit where he realizes its mouth should be. Wisps of smoke trail off the dim gray specter as it bobs in the air, feet never touching the ground. What...? Naya rubs his eyes furiously and looks up again; it's closer.
It holds out a hand.
It smiles.
-
He ran for his life.
-
Naya recalls what happened in little flashes as he lies back in the safety of his bed, a small, merry fire crackling away in his little fireplace.
The ground was soft and giving way beneath his feet, but grew more solid as he ran towards the gates.
The gates were closed. He slammed his fists on them, feeling the chill on his neck all the way down his spine where he thought the specter breathed against. One moment he was shoving against the gates as hard as he could, and the next he was on his hands and knees on the cobblestoned road, the gates wide open and the first rays of dawn peeking over the horizon. When he looked behind him the path to the forest was innocuously empty.
He'd run home, heart pounding in his ears, breath coming in short pants. (He waited for his door to burst open, but there's nothing threatening roaming the city streets.)
Sunlight peeks in through his window like a warm smile. Naya stares at the golden light on his floor before conceding that it's safe to take a nap. Rolling over to settle in, he counts to ten.
(He falls asleep at four.)
-
Naya wakes in good spirits. That was the best night's sleep he's ever had.
Whistling as he prepares for his day, Naya decides he'll maybe visit his parents and brother. Or go to the library, if he so wished.
He makes his own choices, after all.
(The forest is a long-forgotten dream to him, and will remain as such for as long as it must.
It waits, patiently, with no grudges held. He'll come back.
He'll always come back.)
[/presto]if I don't wake up dead.
It's the moon that brings him out of the warmth of his bed. Naya doesn't venture out at night very often (a part of him worries about danger, but the golden city has never posed any threat to him; why would it be any different in the dark?) But the moon hangs low, large and round, a blank white face just as it is on any other night, gleaming pale (with glee) and beckoning gently to him in tiny (ominous) flickers. Naya's hand rests on the barred window of his single roomed home and raises his eyes to where he thinks the moon's own are.
"You'll hurt me," he says, but there's no reason that the moon will hurt him. What will it do, burn him with its gentle light? He could laugh at himself for even thinking such a thing.
Come and play. Naya wonders what kind of game it's thinking of. The muscle on his back twitches and, absently, he reaches back to rub at it, staring up at the moon.
"I'm tired," he grumbles. "Come on, can we do this in the morning?"
You're never here in the morning!
Naya feels guilt and looks down at his shoes. Okay, fine. He'll go for a walk and maybe his mind will leave him alone.
He stifles a yawn in his hand as he grabs his shirt. As he tugs it over his head, he hears a small noise outside (a gentle crack that causes his entire being to freeze stone cold, his heart to jump into overdrive and his breath to stick in his throat). But when, like a turtle peering out of its shell he pokes his head out, there's no shadow, no nothing.
There are only cobblestoned streets washed with pale moonlight, and a city of gold turned silver.
Shrugging off the nagging feeling of worry, he opens the door and walks.
-
The capital is beautiful even at night, devoid of teeming life of which it's usually abundant. It's a different kind of beauty, Naya has to admit, but one he can possibly get very used to.
(There's an air of rebellion and danger with each step he takes. But it's not like anyone has a hold on him; he's his own man now, living alone.
Yet, as he he's walking down the street in the middle of the night, he feels antsy, like he's doing something wrong. And he's exhausted but his mind wouldn't let him rest. (He has a nagging feeling that he's missing something today, but what's today? He can't remember. When was the last time he knew what day it was anyway? Whatever. He'll check with Ari in the morning.)
But the city is gorgeous, the tall citadel flanked by snow-capped mountains (is it winter? It must be winter; Naya hopes it'll snow) and appearing to gleam with a metallic sheen. Tipping his head back, Naya imagines the tip of the citadel touching clouds.
It feels... freeing, somehow.
-
His feet take him down past the warmly welcoming gates at the entrance of the city. The gates never shut, it seems, even at night; but what do the citizens of the capital have to fear from the dense forest? Not a single threatening sound has been heard from its depths, and so the bird-like children often play at its edges.
Naya hesitates at the end of the road. The path before him is... nothing. Simply green grass, some bent where the birdlings raced over but the forest is new, uncharted territory three meters from where he stands.
Come and play, come and play, the moon urges him, but this isn't the moon anymore, is it? Come play with me, brother!
"Ari?" he says aloud, startled. "What are you doing there?"
I want to play!
"Ari, this isn't funny," Naya says nervously, looking around him. "Come on, I'll bring you home."
His little brother's response is inaudibly a growl that worries Naya just a little bit. He takes steps closer to the forest.
But as his feet touch the yet untried path he hears the unmistakable creak of metal and the gentle thud of a door closing. Naya doesn't have to turn to see that the gates have closed on him, but he does. His heart sinks at the reality.
(He longs to run back and beg them to let him back in.)
"Ari, they've closed the door on us," he calls into the forest, but there's no response. "Ari?"
Beep.... beep...
"This isn't funny," Naya tries again.
... sleeping...
"Ari?"
...wonder... wake?
Naya's eyes widen as a pale figure steps around a nearby tree - no, floats through. It has no face that he can see, only a slit where he realizes its mouth should be. Wisps of smoke trail off the dim gray specter as it bobs in the air, feet never touching the ground. What...? Naya rubs his eyes furiously and looks up again; it's closer.
It holds out a hand.
It smiles.
-
He ran for his life.
-
Naya recalls what happened in little flashes as he lies back in the safety of his bed, a small, merry fire crackling away in his little fireplace.
The ground was soft and giving way beneath his feet, but grew more solid as he ran towards the gates.
The gates were closed. He slammed his fists on them, feeling the chill on his neck all the way down his spine where he thought the specter breathed against. One moment he was shoving against the gates as hard as he could, and the next he was on his hands and knees on the cobblestoned road, the gates wide open and the first rays of dawn peeking over the horizon. When he looked behind him the path to the forest was innocuously empty.
He'd run home, heart pounding in his ears, breath coming in short pants. (He waited for his door to burst open, but there's nothing threatening roaming the city streets.)
Sunlight peeks in through his window like a warm smile. Naya stares at the golden light on his floor before conceding that it's safe to take a nap. Rolling over to settle in, he counts to ten.
(He falls asleep at four.)
-
Naya wakes in good spirits. That was the best night's sleep he's ever had.
Whistling as he prepares for his day, Naya decides he'll maybe visit his parents and brother. Or go to the library, if he so wished.
He makes his own choices, after all.
(The forest is a long-forgotten dream to him, and will remain as such for as long as it must.
It waits, patiently, with no grudges held. He'll come back.
He'll always come back.)
