Melted Mask
~found deep in a desk drawer in an old, forgotten room where a now-dead person used to live~
You stand and watch silently, coldfire violet eye glinting in the gentle moonlight as you run slender fingers through tousled blue hair. Your own hair, made silver by glowing lunar rays, cascades over your lover's neck and chest, your silent face held away, away from that beckoning warmth - that shunning cold, the icy cold of a sharp winter's night - as you watch him. Pale lids cover his bright blue eyes, lit afire by the benevolent Lady casting her own gaze over you as you and your dark lover lay in Her embrace.
He stirs - just the tiniest rustle of the black silk sheets against his indigo hair - and you catch your breath, pulling up the Mask that you use to hide your self. No one can see you vulnerable, eyeing this pale angel with love in your eyes. Never mind that that love was there; the very fact that an emotion existed within you is what made you uneasy. No one can evoke emotion from your closed heart - you made it that way many years ago, is it never safe otherwise - and the shocking ease with which he evokes a smile from your beautiful face stuns you. You watch him with eyes as cold as him now, cold as the vacuum of space, icy as the deepest darkness. The fire burning in his shadows is enough to make your facade fade; your many Masks melt away to the simple cries you give him in your loving. None but he can pull that begging tone from your voice; none but he can make your pale skin burn with lust undimmed by hundreds of years. Love at first sight, no; certainly lust that blossomed into love as you battled him for dominance, both on the field and in the soft shadows of his dark night and the dying twilight from which you pulled your magick. He owns you in a way you swore in which to never give yourself. He has stolen something - stolen your Mask, stolen all the false parts of you. Bits that you though were real are now gone; things you thought merely another illusion are real. So much denial burns within your heart, even you don't know where one face ends and another begins, much less where you are, hidden within all that confusion.
You've confused yourself so much you're blind as well as lost, though not totally so. Merely half blind, as he made you, and now unmakes you. He took part of your body's vision, warped it, and gave it back in the sense in which you needed it. You could never thank him for this - never would. It is not in your nature, as lost as that nature may be. Wielding of web and Weave, you hide beneath both, honor held only when convenient for you. A simple word from your lips had great men falling in ashes - that power became pride, though pride was never as dangerous for you as those Masks you wore so easily. It still, however, hinders you with him. Love is not something spoken. As he, in his poetry so rarely heard and even less often enscripted, once said to you - "Emotion is a thing best left unvoiced, for it is too complicated for simple words and too simple for complicated words" - such things stay hidden behind the Mask you use to hide from yourself.
He sees right through you - always has, always will, with those wolf eyes that glint of dark rage and bright passion - and bore right into your soul, sweeping in and stealing your heart and spirit with understatements and his quirky smile. He always made you laugh, could always get you to smile...
I watched you silently, never allowing my observance to show. It took me many years to peel apart the layers of you that he seemed to slice away like a knife through blood. I was always jealous of the smile you had for him, the way your pretty eyes glimmered as you gazed into his. Eye, actually; though now more recently that has been undone as well. It always made my own blood boil with anger hotter than the stars themselves and colder than the frozen tundra of an age long past. He reached inside of you before you ever knew it and plucked away your heart, your soul.
I confuse myself now with this endless rambling. It is dangerous to reveal so much so simply, as unnavigable as this bit of thought is. It is reminiscent of one of his twisting poems, or your convoluted images. I become lost in my own thoughts, in a way you thought exclusive to you. Your mind is not the only maze in this place. Do not forget that.
- Kayura
(so? what did you THINK?!?!?!?! frighteningly short, I know, but I like it. and the quote about emotions really is something Cale said, and Dais adopted. in case you hadn't noticed who they were. I had to make it from Kayura, cause, well, no one else really fit.)
~found deep in a desk drawer in an old, forgotten room where a now-dead person used to live~
You stand and watch silently, coldfire violet eye glinting in the gentle moonlight as you run slender fingers through tousled blue hair. Your own hair, made silver by glowing lunar rays, cascades over your lover's neck and chest, your silent face held away, away from that beckoning warmth - that shunning cold, the icy cold of a sharp winter's night - as you watch him. Pale lids cover his bright blue eyes, lit afire by the benevolent Lady casting her own gaze over you as you and your dark lover lay in Her embrace.
He stirs - just the tiniest rustle of the black silk sheets against his indigo hair - and you catch your breath, pulling up the Mask that you use to hide your self. No one can see you vulnerable, eyeing this pale angel with love in your eyes. Never mind that that love was there; the very fact that an emotion existed within you is what made you uneasy. No one can evoke emotion from your closed heart - you made it that way many years ago, is it never safe otherwise - and the shocking ease with which he evokes a smile from your beautiful face stuns you. You watch him with eyes as cold as him now, cold as the vacuum of space, icy as the deepest darkness. The fire burning in his shadows is enough to make your facade fade; your many Masks melt away to the simple cries you give him in your loving. None but he can pull that begging tone from your voice; none but he can make your pale skin burn with lust undimmed by hundreds of years. Love at first sight, no; certainly lust that blossomed into love as you battled him for dominance, both on the field and in the soft shadows of his dark night and the dying twilight from which you pulled your magick. He owns you in a way you swore in which to never give yourself. He has stolen something - stolen your Mask, stolen all the false parts of you. Bits that you though were real are now gone; things you thought merely another illusion are real. So much denial burns within your heart, even you don't know where one face ends and another begins, much less where you are, hidden within all that confusion.
You've confused yourself so much you're blind as well as lost, though not totally so. Merely half blind, as he made you, and now unmakes you. He took part of your body's vision, warped it, and gave it back in the sense in which you needed it. You could never thank him for this - never would. It is not in your nature, as lost as that nature may be. Wielding of web and Weave, you hide beneath both, honor held only when convenient for you. A simple word from your lips had great men falling in ashes - that power became pride, though pride was never as dangerous for you as those Masks you wore so easily. It still, however, hinders you with him. Love is not something spoken. As he, in his poetry so rarely heard and even less often enscripted, once said to you - "Emotion is a thing best left unvoiced, for it is too complicated for simple words and too simple for complicated words" - such things stay hidden behind the Mask you use to hide from yourself.
He sees right through you - always has, always will, with those wolf eyes that glint of dark rage and bright passion - and bore right into your soul, sweeping in and stealing your heart and spirit with understatements and his quirky smile. He always made you laugh, could always get you to smile...
I watched you silently, never allowing my observance to show. It took me many years to peel apart the layers of you that he seemed to slice away like a knife through blood. I was always jealous of the smile you had for him, the way your pretty eyes glimmered as you gazed into his. Eye, actually; though now more recently that has been undone as well. It always made my own blood boil with anger hotter than the stars themselves and colder than the frozen tundra of an age long past. He reached inside of you before you ever knew it and plucked away your heart, your soul.
I confuse myself now with this endless rambling. It is dangerous to reveal so much so simply, as unnavigable as this bit of thought is. It is reminiscent of one of his twisting poems, or your convoluted images. I become lost in my own thoughts, in a way you thought exclusive to you. Your mind is not the only maze in this place. Do not forget that.
- Kayura
(so? what did you THINK?!?!?!?! frighteningly short, I know, but I like it. and the quote about emotions really is something Cale said, and Dais adopted. in case you hadn't noticed who they were. I had to make it from Kayura, cause, well, no one else really fit.)