etched in gold — malachi. & ridley. [hg museum]
Jan 3, 2020 3:58:49 GMT -5
Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Jan 3, 2020 3:58:49 GMT -5
he's wild, you know.
not like a tame lion.
not like a tame lion.
The machines whirred gently, a cat’s purr.
Slivers of light peeked through these machines as memories spilled from the digital archives, data that’d been carefully kept for a long time, into this form of light.
It coalesced, first to a shape then to the shimmering frame of a boy from decades ago—from a forgotten story—from the sepia-colored photographs. A smiling boy, a boy encased in a golden light. A boy who had marched to the cross voluntarily, a boy with the bones of a martyr.
“Where am I?” he asked, tone gentle.
He let himself settle into the space, not as a body with flesh, but as a body crafted out of light, as a ghost. His eyes took about the dark, hardwood floors and the room around them. He glanced at his hands and the way sunlight pierced through the skin of them and cast a sheen of dappled light upon the ground he hovered on.
Then, the memories clicked into place.
“Oh,” Malachi said, with a pensive smile. “I remember.” He was made of memories. “I remember, I remember.” From where he stood, he glanced up at the other. Brown eyes stared back at Malachi, the same color as the tresses of her hair. She was simple, but sharp-boned. The way she held herself with a quiet grace told Malachi that she was not an ordinary girl. Then again, he was not an ordinary boy, that he understood.
Memories swelled within him, like a tide.
“Ridley,” he spoke gently, turning the syllables over his tongue. “Ridley Le Roux, victor of the 83rd Hunger Games.” For a moment, he merely stared at her, at the juts of her bones, at the sharpness of her eyes.
Then, a smile washed over Malachi’s face, a cascade of sunlight as bright as the one that haloed him. “Adopted by Pax Le Roux, my sister,” he said. “Another lion.”
quote: C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
