--There were times when a sense of (reason? clarity? sanity?) something lucid would settle back into her buzzing mind. With it would come the Weight, and for a long, crushing, smothering amount of time she would sit, or lie down, or try do anything she could and not think about how ruined she was. How that creature had gotten so deep under her skin that she could create, manipulate, pull off his most silent and perfected evils with frightening ease.
In time the memories would return; the words, the tears, the roars, the screams and that sad, sweet face she saw so much of her old self in… And the rage, fresh and hot, would return to keep her going. To plan, to plot, to act...
Until then the Weight must be endured; vicious and heavy enough to keep her pinned in place. And at some point there would be no choice but to lay down and feel the dull, empty, familiar pain fester (it must pass, it has to pass, I have too much to do) and wait. And wait. And wait.
It might be an hour or more until it occurs to her that the boulder she’s leaning against is, in fact, not a boulder. She isn’t completely alone yet, not here.
The creature had been a fool back then, thinking he left her with nothing (absolutely NOTHING), but there had always been a warm body near her when he was not. A pleasant warmth, a steady heartbeat, and in that tiny, unknown mercy he had failed to leave her completely seared.
Even if they were both too torn, too mutilated, that they couldn’t offer so much as a whisper, or anything there at all (she wouldn’t have minded, not for anything now, after years and years of THAT-), they were still always near and never left. And sometimes (these times) one would sit closer, (a lean in, a nuzzle, an embrace and that’s all there can be, but it’s enough, it’s enough, it’s perfect) with no one else to know (and it would feel a little sweeter, a little lighter).
Palecoat especially. He always seemed to know when.
In all the years he stood by her – steady and silent and breathing – neither he or the other had never so much indicated to want anything more from her in return, nothing at all (and she would give them anything now, ask for anything just stay, please, stay with me).
Perhaps it was just nice to feel wanted. To feel close.
She hoped to the Stars she was wanted back.
A silly little pic with a silly little story that would not leave me be
after reading Rinjapine's little story fav.me/d5jt98q
. It's gettin' all Game of Thrones-y over there, but with lions! o3o
Lalela's story just turned out so pathetically sad
that I had to imagine she got some comfort somewhere. There had to be a bond of some sort between her and her two guards, even just emotionally.
Knowing her luck, they probably won't be around for much longer...
Lalela, Lalela's bodyguard (c)
Pic, mini-story (c) Me