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Drabblet thing
Yes. Erm. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scheherezhad, felinias, and straypenstrokes for the midnight betas. ^^
I'm actually dedicating this tomonochromal because 1) it was reading her stuff today that got me in the mood to write this, and 2) she is simply that cool. ^^;; *posts and scurries away to hide*
You know that everything is different by the way your friends move-- the whisper of tiptoe steps against blood red carpet, like you're made of glass and they're afraid you will shatter--although, to be honest, you knew everything had changed the instant you lost the last of your family to a Veil that whispered dead promises in your ears.
Sometimes, when the sky is a deep slate and thunder is echoing in the distance, you press your cheek against the cool glass of the window and pretend that the scream of the clouds is the beat of his heart and the flash of the lightning is like the memory of a moment you never had a chance to live. It’s during the storms when you know, above all else, that he existed.
There are other times, though, when you walk through the halls of Hogwarts and the voices you hear are like ocean waves of relief, and you wonder if you ever really knew him at all.
You dream of dark mirrors that shatter in your palms, and in the shards you see his face instead of your own.
Waking up to find his final gift to you clutched in your hand and tears streaming down your cheeks, you wonder why, in the end, it is so very hard to let go.
scheherezhad, felinias, and straypenstrokes for the midnight betas. ^^I'm actually dedicating this to
monochromal because 1) it was reading her stuff today that got me in the mood to write this, and 2) she is simply that cool. ^^;; *posts and scurries away to hide*You know that everything is different by the way your friends move-- the whisper of tiptoe steps against blood red carpet, like you're made of glass and they're afraid you will shatter--although, to be honest, you knew everything had changed the instant you lost the last of your family to a Veil that whispered dead promises in your ears.
Sometimes, when the sky is a deep slate and thunder is echoing in the distance, you press your cheek against the cool glass of the window and pretend that the scream of the clouds is the beat of his heart and the flash of the lightning is like the memory of a moment you never had a chance to live. It’s during the storms when you know, above all else, that he existed.
There are other times, though, when you walk through the halls of Hogwarts and the voices you hear are like ocean waves of relief, and you wonder if you ever really knew him at all.
You dream of dark mirrors that shatter in your palms, and in the shards you see his face instead of your own.
Waking up to find his final gift to you clutched in your hand and tears streaming down your cheeks, you wonder why, in the end, it is so very hard to let go.