[ P ] banish from existence

[TW, harmful thoughts.]

Truly she had no business here. Staring at the inn, watching those as they came in and out, the door swinging behind them. Occasionally some would stagger out of the drunken seagull, eyeing her as if she was a freshly caught carcass, slur some words, and continue on their way when there was no response. She should have been content with that, right? She closed her eyes, her heart still heavy from the altercation with Reuben. Every time she blinked she saw what he was, to her, and who he really was to the world. Those eyes. Fuck, those stupid eyes, she grit her teeth just thinking about it. Was any of it true? He claimed it was, but really, Rayne felt she had no sense of reality anymore.

It would be a lie if she said she felt disgusted by him, at least no in the one shared moment they had together that they both thought was a dream. She could still feel his tender kisses line her neck, the ghost of his chest along her back, she could still feel him—all of him, and the delicacy that was their act.

Even now, angry as she was, that part of him did not disgust her. It seemed, actually, that it was the most genuine thing she recieved from him. Another sigh and she found herself swinging the doors of the Drunken Seagull open, and plopping herself at the bar. The bartender looked at her, his eyes questioning what she wanted, and she stared back at him with sadness and ignorance.

He left with a nod, and in another breath she was given a thick glass lined with brown liquid. Rayne looked at it, and she knew the longer she stared the less willing she would be to gulp it down. And when she did, she nearly gagged, but that didn't stop her from two more rounds.

She would be the next one stumbling out of the Inn and towards the cliff that stared out over the water. There she stood for a moment, the chilled air kissing her face and lining her cheeks, the waves temping her to join them. If she did, would the rest of the pain be replaced with something more temporary. Her toes played with the edge, in the moment she felt so freed by the open space. Maybe to anyone else it seemed like a girl enjoying the sights of the ocean while the figure on her shoulder screamed at her to jump.

the crownless again shall be king

It was as if I were a machine, and my mind the engine, my ambition the fuel. And so I burned across all the lands and towns, stopping briefly in between to visit Parathion, my own ideals growing. It was hardly a surprise to me to find myself on the way to the Seagull, even if I rarely made my way here, something inside telling me to move, to interact, to expand. And so I will. Like lightning rippling beneath my skin, flashing in my eye, and scorching nerve endings in my brain - I couldn’t stop the feelings inside. I wanted more for myself, my thoughts rambling on about a possible future with Parathion, and what that could lead to. However volatile it may end up being, I still couldn’t help but let my mind wander to all the nooks and crannies of said future. So I had to prepare. I had to build. My empire awaits me, and I cannot remain still. It would be the death of all in my path if I didn’t, and even now my wake had claimed a few souls. But it wasn’t regret that I felt - just more passion. My one working eye observed the lady as she staggered her way out of the bar. I watched as she meandered to the cliff side, rocks giving way beneath her weight. Her nose careened over the edge. Her eyes, full of sorrow, staring down at the abyss of true death. I remained still and silent as I watched her a moment longer. The twitch in her muscle, the carapace shifting. She wanted to jump. Was it my place to stop her? Morals. Which side did I stand? Would it be right to move in the way of her or would it be wrong? It seemed whichever decision I made these recent weeks was always working against me anyway. For a moment I contemplated even saying a word. Perhaps she just needed a friend. "I’m sorry." Deep vocals spoke an even volume, neither booming nor too soft. A rolling thunder. But it was all I said, as I stood with my head high, shoulders back, and stoic visage regarding the lovely young woman. It was then I waited for her next move. And whatever were to come of it… so be it.

code // art

I'm sorry...

The deep baritones caused her muzzle to shift over her shoulder, ice blue eyes settling on the man before her. His face was riddled with scars, but his eyes they were gentle, waiting to see what she would do. She looked back over to the edge as she inhaled a heavy breath, but as much as she was hurt, and as sad as she was for the events that happened with Reuben—she would not let it define her.

"Hi," she hiccupped, "I'm glad you showed up," she stated in a worn out breath as she backed away from the ledge, her small paws bringing her closer to him. She stumbled a bit, still overwhelmed by the booze and her lack of experience with drinking. "My h-head hurts," she then admitted. Again her gaze would find him, her eyes searching for an answer or maybe even something she could relate to him with.

"Have you ever been so so so sad that you just, I dunnoooo," her shoulders pulled into a shrug, "didn't feel like getting out of bed, or just weren't hungry...." a soft chuckle fell from her lips, her world growing dizzy so she would sit. "I'm actually kinda sad you know," if he knew anything about her character than he would know this was not at all who she usually was.

the crownless again shall be king

Her words were heavy. They weighed her tongue as she spoke then, her shoulders sagged as she voiced her concerns in a vague tone yet I found I could completely understand. The depression wafting from her was palpable, I could taste it, feel it as it was already deeply settled in myself. I observed her, took her in with every wobble and aroma of liquor. She was trying to quiet her mind, but she had a lot of strength left. I could see it, and see it well. A ruined countenance was forged in its usual stoic expression, if not slightly dipped in sadness for her. As she finished speaking, I looked from the edge of the cliff back to her, and over again then gestured with a slight motion of my chin. "Come." I then moved to advance beside her, to reach the small, flat surface tucked away from the cliff side, yet not far enough away to alert her if she thought I was anything but decent. I sat and gestured again for her to join me. "Would you like to tell me what happened?" I offered to her, baritones drawling and soothing. Even if my appearance was anything but, as I attempted to douse the usual macho man intimidation act. This young girl needed someone. And maybe I did too. So I waited.

code // art

Her head pounded, the alcohol clearly not sitting well with her. As she tried to recall how many drinks she had, her memory failed her. His demand, though it didn’t come across as reprimanding, made her focus on the scars etched across his face—those hard lines beneath soft yet stern yellow eyes. Something about him made her feel safe, but perhaps that was just the liquid courage talking. Rayne glanced over the ledge once more before taking a single, unsteady step back and turning away from the precipice.

Would you like to tell me what happened?

Her throat tightened, the threat of tears imminent, but she swallowed hard and nodded. Rayne followed him as he guided her further from the ledge, her head hanging with an undeniable heaviness. When they were settled, she gathered her strength and words, struggling to articulate why she was so lost in her own anguish.

"I'm an idiot," she began, biting her lower lip as she stole a glance at the profile of his face. "I found myself falling for someone," she said, a hiccup escaping her as she continued, "what an idiot..." Her gaze fell to the floor, heavy with despair. "He lied to me, about everything, but claims he hasn’t lied about his feelings—how stupid, right?" She let out a shaky laugh, followed by another hiccup. "Love is stupid." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, lost in the weight of her sadness.

the crownless again shall be king

Her pain was prominent in every syllable. She felt betrayed, confused, her heart visibly bleeding. Her soul was draining. She didn’t know how to put it all back into place, how to glue it all piece by piece. I felt for her, sympathetic and emphatic. I listened to her, and when she was finished with a rather vague but acceptable explanation of her pain, I nodded. "Love is war." Put simply. Three words meant everything, so heavy with pure meaning. "Did he say why he lied?" Maybe this man had reasons. Surely not enough to put this lady in such distress, but maybe he had some motive at the beginning. Then realized he was too deep into it, and didn’t know how to keep his head above water.

code // art