Post by Svv Mrk'ss on Mar 12, 2010 21:36:24 GMT -5
If there was a being that wrought the world that understood the meaning of words, it was Svv'Vstr, for he knew that words could deceive and manipulate just as easily as they could resolve and set free. Svv knew all the lights and darks that intertwined with the syllables, and heard them all in a chorus that was nature that was only understood by him. Svv knew that if there was an art in such words, Death mastered them, for Death spoke with no wrongs, no emotional attachments, and, of course, with no poetry.
Had Svv stopped his own heralding of the death knell?
And he understood, if only loosely, to realize what it was like to be made mortal. He had felt mortal for the past thirty years, waiting for Death, this embraced thing, that he knew would come. Death always kept his promises.
The Sound Fey felt the other weakening against him, but noticed the tide that did not allow the other to let go. Svv held on tighter, realizing it was the only thing that kept this understanding mutual; for so long as Death could feel, he could want.
And Svv's wood-like hands became a vice enough to bruise any normal person. One slippery hand was on the waist, the other on the neck, now placing it on the nape, wanting to instill the realness that he felt to the other, just as Sylvias inflicted pain upon him. This was communication, the kind that would save his life, the unspoken word that made sunsets suddenly meaningful, love more life than water and song that could saturate Death in curiosity, if only for a moment.
This was was a different kind of hunger than had been felt before.
Svv held Sylvias's weight as he felt it depleting, their moments shortening, Svv feeling his breath doing the same. He leaned over Death, kneeling slightly just as the weight was pulling him down down and Svv spoke to the Death Fey.
"I will find your meaning, Sylvain, and I will keep your word all the same," he said with finality, his words curling. He felt his heart beat in his ears, louder than anything else.
He let go, not sure if he could stand this connection anymore, this mumbling in the back of his mind, this thing that would certainly last forever.
And everything went dark, for Svv'Vstr was finally left with the noise and then, in a beat, there was none.
Had Svv stopped his own heralding of the death knell?
And he understood, if only loosely, to realize what it was like to be made mortal. He had felt mortal for the past thirty years, waiting for Death, this embraced thing, that he knew would come. Death always kept his promises.
The Sound Fey felt the other weakening against him, but noticed the tide that did not allow the other to let go. Svv held on tighter, realizing it was the only thing that kept this understanding mutual; for so long as Death could feel, he could want.
And Svv's wood-like hands became a vice enough to bruise any normal person. One slippery hand was on the waist, the other on the neck, now placing it on the nape, wanting to instill the realness that he felt to the other, just as Sylvias inflicted pain upon him. This was communication, the kind that would save his life, the unspoken word that made sunsets suddenly meaningful, love more life than water and song that could saturate Death in curiosity, if only for a moment.
This was was a different kind of hunger than had been felt before.
Svv held Sylvias's weight as he felt it depleting, their moments shortening, Svv feeling his breath doing the same. He leaned over Death, kneeling slightly just as the weight was pulling him down down and Svv spoke to the Death Fey.
"I will find your meaning, Sylvain, and I will keep your word all the same," he said with finality, his words curling. He felt his heart beat in his ears, louder than anything else.
He let go, not sure if he could stand this connection anymore, this mumbling in the back of his mind, this thing that would certainly last forever.
And everything went dark, for Svv'Vstr was finally left with the noise and then, in a beat, there was none.
