Zavien
It's strange how darkness feels like your only friend when it's all you can see. Light peeks through the windows, casting the floor in faint lamplight, just enough for him to see all the memories that are beginning to haunt him, painted in a soft glow that proves just how alone he is without her. Yet, in the outline of the window, a shadow appears, someone else daring to enter the hollowness of his heart, a reminder that he isn't sitting in an empty void however much it may feel like.
The voice that calls out is familiar, slowly drawing his attention away from the depths of his despair. It's a friend other than the darkness, someone who has always managed to be there when he needs him - someone he'd hate to make crawl through the window. But the strength feels so far, the controls for his body having calcified beyond repair.
Sol leaves Koa to support his companion, bumping and nuzzling against his side with an insistence that can't be ignored. It's a noxious stimulus that breaks through the fog of his thoughts, pushing him to a shuffled kneel, then a bent crouch, then a hunched stance. The numb disconnect of his movements are hazy. He can't feel the cold metal of the doorknob, can't feel the breeze cutting through his thin coat when the door opens, can't feel the smile that always comes like second nature.
Zavien blinks against the lamplight, failing to clear the blank stare from his eyes, the redness that rims them when he lays eyes on his friend after so many weeks. His throat is hoarse, the words flat and dry through the tightness they have to crawl up from. "Koa... sorry, I - " Missed you? Can't think straight? Couldn't hear you through the darkness? Want to be alone? Was too late to save her?
None of the phrases take form, his mouth closing around everything he can't say. He doesn't know what to do with himself, doesn't know how to stand, doesn't know how to breathe with her gone, and it's obvious in the way his hand falls limp from the doorknob, nearly leaning against the doorframe to support himself, struggling just to keep his head from hitting his chest. There's a heaviness to everything, an ache that he can't shake and a pain he's not sure will ever leave.
The voice that calls out is familiar, slowly drawing his attention away from the depths of his despair. It's a friend other than the darkness, someone who has always managed to be there when he needs him - someone he'd hate to make crawl through the window. But the strength feels so far, the controls for his body having calcified beyond repair.
Sol leaves Koa to support his companion, bumping and nuzzling against his side with an insistence that can't be ignored. It's a noxious stimulus that breaks through the fog of his thoughts, pushing him to a shuffled kneel, then a bent crouch, then a hunched stance. The numb disconnect of his movements are hazy. He can't feel the cold metal of the doorknob, can't feel the breeze cutting through his thin coat when the door opens, can't feel the smile that always comes like second nature.
Zavien blinks against the lamplight, failing to clear the blank stare from his eyes, the redness that rims them when he lays eyes on his friend after so many weeks. His throat is hoarse, the words flat and dry through the tightness they have to crawl up from. "Koa... sorry, I - " Missed you? Can't think straight? Couldn't hear you through the darkness? Want to be alone? Was too late to save her?
None of the phrases take form, his mouth closing around everything he can't say. He doesn't know what to do with himself, doesn't know how to stand, doesn't know how to breathe with her gone, and it's obvious in the way his hand falls limp from the doorknob, nearly leaning against the doorframe to support himself, struggling just to keep his head from hitting his chest. There's a heaviness to everything, an ache that he can't shake and a pain he's not sure will ever leave.
I'd rather have a broken arm than a broken heart.
