were one to gaze upon an unshackled angel all they would see is… DESPAIR. loss paints a once light canvas dark – a bitterness lingering upon tongue. never wanted hostility, never wished to turn bonds sour and break away; yet here the young wilkins stands, defeated and at her mercy. a chew toy, ready for the dogs bite. doesn’t expect anything less, he’s LOYAL. told her that, made her KNOW that. broke his own promise, creed meaning nothing no more. he’s only human, self-sabotage doesn’t spare anyone.
can only swallow, thick, wonders if it’s audible; if the guilt dares make itself present. he’s not selfish, wanted the best for the both of them, STILL wants that. mind races, million thoughts per second, flurry of voices both yelling and whispering; a concoction that WON’T let up. let him THINK, has to think, she deserves something. but he doesn’t have the answers. doesn’t know why he left, simply did. acted on impulse and left.
gaze is cast her way, the floor soon enough to burn away with a piercing stare, and how alien does it feel. surreal, though it had been a mere few months. it felt longer – eons. time isn’t on his side, always pushes him, a pace none should ever endure. so wishes to smile, even laugh, at her mockery, but he’s numb. heart cold, skin callous, instead callum merely snorts. ❝ take it i’m not good enough then, yeah? ❞ venom drips from serpentine tongue, head craned left. comfort never left, however. would always feel at ease around her, no matter how tense.
❝ you… good? ❞ to be emotional, open, to care… it’s foreign. he’s no empath.
“ i don’t know. i’ve always wanted one of those shirts like, you know, ‘ someone i know went to where-ever-the-fuck and all i got was this stupid t-shirt ‘, something like that, “ she says, tone BITING. cigarette returns to beckoning lips, the SIZZLE of paper resonating in her ears louder than she likes. what kind of WARRIOR uses a burning stick as a shield? elisabeth feels NOTHING at his remarks, words sucked into a void. she doesn’t know how she’s SUPPOSED to feel.
“ i’m good. “ arms weave across her chest as she shrugs almost indignantly. “ you know, just doing the usual-- coke, computers, cash. “ what she leaves out is that she’s SICK; plagued with phantom headaches and aching muscles only suited for someone three times her age. elisabeth doesn’t want to admit that there’s an issue, not to herself and certainly not to CALLUM, who she believes, probably doesn’t GIVE A FUCK anyway.
try to be reasonable, try to be humane, try to be accommodating-- is what she tells herself, but the TRUTH of the matter is that she’s NEVER been any of those things, regardless of whether it’s towards a STRANGER or an ALLY ( “ how have you been, callum wilkins, if that IS your real name. “ ). it takes some great extension of herself, some DEEP soul searching to even summon the ENERGY to keep standing there before him, as well as some sort of masochistic CURIOSITY that begs her to find out just what he’s been up to all this time.
elisabeth is a mess 99% of the time; a mess of all shapes and sizes. she’s quick to blame herself but even quicker to rectify guilt with HUMAN VICES-- for every half hour spent wondering, waiting, contemplating, conjecturing, another TWO HOURS is spent among filth; with close bodies and grams on grams on grams of substances-that-shall-not-be-named. for every SECOND spent coming to accept the fact that “ MAYBE I AM THE PROBLEM; MAYBE IT IS MY FAULT; I SHOULD HAVE SEEN THIS COMING “, another EMPIRE falls at her feet for YES, SHE IS WOUNDED; but one man lost is not a cavalry defeated.
the point? callum’s disappearance has so very embarrassingly knocked her down a rung or two, but LIFE GOES ON-- he still has a place with her; albeit shrouded in dust; it’s just up to HIM to blow it away.
janainaart
baratheonpilled
pixelskylines
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