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till the sun comes
7 November 2019 00:58Title: till the sun comes
Fandom: Original
Relationship: Dead Girl & Orpheus-esque Girl
Prompt: 8.10 Trauma
Rating: T
Warnings: Death.
Summary: Who's life are you allowed to beg Death for?
The thing I was most scared of was finding she was in Elysium.
I wanted her back. Gods, I wanted her back more than anything. Early night to morning light I’d walked and walked to find this place. I wasn’t Orpheus or anything close. I wasn’t Hermes, or godlike, or really worth anything at all. I was just so fucking lonely here in the dark and ready to beg at the knees of whatever god waited beyond.
The graveyard at the crossroads loomed. Close. I kept walking, the length of a city block or so made meaningless against the fields. Wheat shushed itself in the light morning wind, casting moon-shadows across my feet. At the side of the road at nowhere, where I’d sent that first message to the other half of my soul, I knelt.
Had it been a thousand years earlier or more, I might have brought a sow with me to the roadside, or a sheep, or some meaningful sacrifice of life and riches. Here and now, I scattered painstakingly collected wild grass seeds under the fence and in the ditch, brushing the last few off my palms into the opaque water of a puddle. When life had bloomed so well, it was meaningful to cut that life short. With asphalt beside me and a monoculture behind me, this was the sort of thing that pleased the gods more.
At least, I hoped.
( Keep reading )
Fandom: Original
Relationship: Dead Girl & Orpheus-esque Girl
Prompt: 8.10 Trauma
Rating: T
Warnings: Death.
Summary: Who's life are you allowed to beg Death for?
The thing I was most scared of was finding she was in Elysium.
I wanted her back. Gods, I wanted her back more than anything. Early night to morning light I’d walked and walked to find this place. I wasn’t Orpheus or anything close. I wasn’t Hermes, or godlike, or really worth anything at all. I was just so fucking lonely here in the dark and ready to beg at the knees of whatever god waited beyond.
The graveyard at the crossroads loomed. Close. I kept walking, the length of a city block or so made meaningless against the fields. Wheat shushed itself in the light morning wind, casting moon-shadows across my feet. At the side of the road at nowhere, where I’d sent that first message to the other half of my soul, I knelt.
Had it been a thousand years earlier or more, I might have brought a sow with me to the roadside, or a sheep, or some meaningful sacrifice of life and riches. Here and now, I scattered painstakingly collected wild grass seeds under the fence and in the ditch, brushing the last few off my palms into the opaque water of a puddle. When life had bloomed so well, it was meaningful to cut that life short. With asphalt beside me and a monoculture behind me, this was the sort of thing that pleased the gods more.
At least, I hoped.
( Keep reading )
