[ It has all the grace of fingers holding together an open wound, a slit throat and her palm holds Ilde's fingers around her throat. Thumb under her jaw, her palm set against the delicate bones where she could feel them press when she swallowed. She feels stricken and empty, she is already pale, but her lips are numb and her body is feverishly cold to her. Leeching needfully from the other girl instead, pressing in them just there so that her breathing goes almost too shallow but has to take deep breaths to get the air she needs. Holds her almost too tight, sagging into her. There are no real things, there is just Ilde and empty corners of her mind and the faint noise of dust and rumble slipping in ancient places, tumbling to the ground.
She knows how those stone feels -- it is so wearing, so exhausting, to hold it all up. The want there, to crawl into Ilde instead of herself, to that beautiful garden, banish everything she couldn't handle away, and it felt like she could handle so very little. ]
It hurt, I don't remember anything else but -- [ Mad babble for things there is no explaining really. It is all she manages, where Ilde wraps around her, she, in turn, burrows like a root system into the earth, like sunlight to open upturned leaves. Searching for a way out from the rot that birthed them. Or find meaning to it. Hooking herself into the other girl's warmth, the set of her fingers, stitch herself back up with vines and weeds and things she doesn't know but to look at. ]
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She knows how those stone feels -- it is so wearing, so exhausting, to hold it all up. The want there, to crawl into Ilde instead of herself, to that beautiful garden, banish everything she couldn't handle away, and it felt like she could handle so very little. ]
It hurt, I don't remember anything else but -- [ Mad babble for things there is no explaining really. It is all she manages, where Ilde wraps around her, she, in turn, burrows like a root system into the earth, like sunlight to open upturned leaves. Searching for a way out from the rot that birthed them. Or find meaning to it. Hooking herself into the other girl's warmth, the set of her fingers, stitch herself back up with vines and weeds and things she doesn't know but to look at. ]