-- GOIN’ WHERE THE COLD WIND BLOWS ; @gloryshound
@hereticated· prompted: ❛ ☀️ ❜ . + eli
FOR A FIRST THING IN THE MORNING STARTER. / 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 !
𝐈𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐄'𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 / he arises from the dust already aching , rises from the sheets of his bed , gripping him , clutching at him , nightmares fall from his shoulders , an uneasy sleep dissipates in the wake of internal alarm sounding. IN THE WAKE OF A NEW DAY : he finds that tomorrow is a promise that breaks with the dawn. the sheets are thrown back , haphazard , no care given to the comfort of things. knees protest and he lurches to a stand , he feels that is all he is these days. a hulking , a lurching thing with no choice but to stumble forward into whatever is coming this time. the sun inches across the horizon in shades of peach flesh and hearts blood. face shoved under the tap and he thinks in one moment of flooding that beyond the sterile smell of rushing water there is something like growth.
standing beneath the sun , morning dew against his boots , the dark of a rotted night falling away he breathes. HALCYON DAYS , the prelude to the thing he calls living , the dirt and the grime and the blood , if he closes his eyes he can hear the crackle of a camp fire , see the lines of a smile barely implied in the faces of his people. and they are , HIS PEOPLE. his people to live for , his people to die for , his people to care for in the days they found themselves in now. a little indulged habit , long since left by the wayside , scattered along bar parking lots , dirt roads , and ash trays. he watches the smoke curl from his mouth , become ghosts in the watery morning light , that first bright splash of red fading into something gentle as the sun rises. “ haven’t seen you in awhile , honestly , wasn’t sure you’d show this time. “
& HERE HE ARISES WITH THE BREAK OF DAY , bones as creaky as the bunker door , beard all haphazard from sleeping on the headstones of his past . a soldier , but soft in the early sunshine . the memory of trigger fingers ; trailing their way through the fields of her scalp . shivers tumble down the length of her spine . he arises and the atmosphere warms , he arises and reason withers . but you can’t stay . he holds weight in this hillside , selfish to risk their sunrise just so she can have one more .
if lack of sleep is a competition then she’s won with a sum total of zilche . shades of black & blue rim red pools . still doesn’t hold a candle to the red she’d scrubbed from her in the river that morning . fetal position against the cliffside , cornered . 1 , 2 , 3 . again . he knows shes there ( hasn’t gotten the drop on him yet ) & they stir in the silence awhile . The HISS of a lighter breaks through the hush , & a sigh gives way to clouds of grey . it dances around the planes of his placid facade before he finally speaks .
there’s worry in his words ; a question stated , not asked . & her answer will make it all the worse . stomach drops at the end of his sentence . looks up at him with bleary eyes , breathes in to sputter out some excuse but stops , stirs it around her tongue before settling . “ i’ll explain before the sun hits the tallest mountains peak , I promise , I just . . . ” --- the truth is a negotiation , give and take , can’t avoid it , but can cause a delay --- “ come ‘ere and share that cig ‘fore the peggies start shooting this hillside to shit , yeah ? ”
