A Separating Union {Soul, Prismarine, Red // JB}
Jun 5, 2019 21:13:00 GMT -5
Post by Cameo {RIP Charlie} on Jun 5, 2019 21:13:00 GMT -5
<><><>Their expressions were lost from the line of sight. The sense of a past Victor’s upheaval, the stare of familiar eyes who I’ve seen numerous times within the dark, the knowledge of Mycelium’s infant discovery that I’m leaving her lone in, all distracted me from the observations of my cousins reactions amongst the crowd. A void echoes in my core, potentially even in a slightly painful way, crafted upon the uncertainty if they’ll grace me with their farewells. The chamber of my prison lays empty from the exit of Mycelium, the final departure of my other half whom I’m unsure if I can live without. A seat still refutes to rests me, as my legs ache with tension but also a cry to never sit - as if sitting would be defeat to this in itself. It’s quiet, and cold, and for once I actually despise that.
Thoughts wonder to what their features must have radiated amongst the crowd inferior to our genetics. Did Soul’s dashing blue eyes of sinister demeanor darken even more so than usual? Did Pris’s long golden locks frame her innocent-appearing face as they contorted to a demonic rage? It wouldn’t have surprised me if her ferocious confidence had tried to volunteer for my placement of an almost certain death. Even amongst my afterlife I’ll forever be grateful that she didn’t however - it just would have been embarrassing for my twelve year old cousin to take my place.
Lost in the depths of my thoughts, the doorknob rattles once more to permit further intruders into my cage. Those two cousins, that my mind thinks of, enter to my departure goodbyes. Their responses to such an event are still foreign to me, their expressions not reachable quite yet. But they’re here at least, leaving me in wonder if this intrusion upon our family will tear it apart or unite it tighter together. Mycelium will need them now more than ever, while there’s no certainty that she’ll reach out or not.
Reddened lips painted with lipstick part upon my face, tempted to dispel of Mycelium’s secret - though I know she’d kill me if I did. “Guess it’s about time someone in our genetics were chosen.” Sarcasm spews instead, a soft laugh sprinkling in spite. From our parents knowledge none within our family has ever been reaped before - fortunately, though perhaps not as the slim odds of survival gifts all the fortunate. Just have to hope this doesn’t spiral to a curse of a domino of deaths, as it has for many other families within the past.
{Beautiful Table made by the Amazing Arrows <3}