Post by Deleted on Sept 18, 2017 15:54:48 GMT -6
vidar
i'd bare you my heart if i knew that it still was there
i'm too nervous to look
i'm too nervous to look
After half a night of turning over and pacing in his cabin, kept awake by the constant dim glow from his new crimson eye, Vidar rose to his hooves. Vladimir, rightfully exhausted from his vigil, did not even twitch in his slumber, but Vidar felt Alcippe's gaze follow him to the door. He slipped out without addressing her, knowing that she'd pursue if she wished.
He took a steadying breath of the moonless night, and looked over the deck. The ocean was so still that the Trespasser hardly bobbed. Sails furled and anchor dropped, she floated alone on a plane of quiet darkness. Only one lantern was lit, high in the crow's nest, and formed a halo around the night watchman. Their head was silhouetted against the light for a moment as they turned to peer at the cabin's closing door, but they quickly turned away when they recognized their captain.
Vidar would normally -- "normally"? did that apply anymore? -- have greeted them, but they ducked away, turning their face back to the horizon where Onea was sleeping. Vidar held his tongue. He crossed the deck to the bow under the sole lantern's light, and his shadow was small. The watchman above did not move again, didn't dare look his way. That kept happening to him lately.
He listened to the whisper of water slapping the ship far below, tried to feel the rhythmic breathing of a vessel swaying at sea. The Trespasser, sleeping in the near-perfect darkness, gave him no such satisfaction. She wasn't speaking to him either, apparently. He couldn't make himself find the tempo of her subtle movements underhoof, even when he closed his eyes -- his eye. The other stared, blank, out to the horizon. It never shut. He hadn't slept properly since he'd been cursed with it.
Yes, it was the eye, he told himself, and not the echoing screams from Holmsa causing his insomnia. He inhaled, shuddering, and was grateful for the sound of a door closing softly.
Alcippe followed him, as if on cue, and he reached out a muzzle instinctively when she came to stand by his side. He stopped himself before he touched her, however. He couldn't avoid remembering the indescribable sound of the earth swallowing families whole. He couldn't forget watching himself cause it, almost despite himself, like an improbable dream. "I don't know what's happening to me." His voice was soft in a way it rarely was, and did not reach the watchman overhead.
He took a steadying breath of the moonless night, and looked over the deck. The ocean was so still that the Trespasser hardly bobbed. Sails furled and anchor dropped, she floated alone on a plane of quiet darkness. Only one lantern was lit, high in the crow's nest, and formed a halo around the night watchman. Their head was silhouetted against the light for a moment as they turned to peer at the cabin's closing door, but they quickly turned away when they recognized their captain.
Vidar would normally -- "normally"? did that apply anymore? -- have greeted them, but they ducked away, turning their face back to the horizon where Onea was sleeping. Vidar held his tongue. He crossed the deck to the bow under the sole lantern's light, and his shadow was small. The watchman above did not move again, didn't dare look his way. That kept happening to him lately.
He listened to the whisper of water slapping the ship far below, tried to feel the rhythmic breathing of a vessel swaying at sea. The Trespasser, sleeping in the near-perfect darkness, gave him no such satisfaction. She wasn't speaking to him either, apparently. He couldn't make himself find the tempo of her subtle movements underhoof, even when he closed his eyes -- his eye. The other stared, blank, out to the horizon. It never shut. He hadn't slept properly since he'd been cursed with it.
Yes, it was the eye, he told himself, and not the echoing screams from Holmsa causing his insomnia. He inhaled, shuddering, and was grateful for the sound of a door closing softly.
Alcippe followed him, as if on cue, and he reached out a muzzle instinctively when she came to stand by his side. He stopped himself before he touched her, however. He couldn't avoid remembering the indescribable sound of the earth swallowing families whole. He couldn't forget watching himself cause it, almost despite himself, like an improbable dream. "I don't know what's happening to me." His voice was soft in a way it rarely was, and did not reach the watchman overhead.
407 words | post 1