• Closed • Repressed Guilt

Burying feelings makes them disappear, right?

1st of Ymiden 716

Here are all threads from before the Fall of Emea in 719 and all threads pertaining to the Fall. As of Ymiden 719 (1st June 2019), this forum is locked for new threads and is a repository for old content.

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Repressed Guilt

Tristan turned his back.

A chill immediately ran down his spine as the air stilled around him and tried to escape his lungs without his bidding, as if he'd been struck in the chest by something. He felt no pain to go with the impact, but he would've found it suddenly difficult to breathe. As if that wasn't enough, that sense of foreboding wouldn't go away, pushing invasively against his mind... and he could feel a second heartbeat inside his chest. Hard, loud, echoing in his ears and following the pace of the soft footsteps behind him as his wife pursued him, reaching out to him...

Her hand landed softly on his shoulder, whether he'd allow it or not. It was a gentle grasp, something he wasn't necessarily unfamiliar with. Her palm felt warm, even through his clothing, fingers sinking quickly into the cloth and remaining there. She said nothing, but the second voice, that malignant presence that stubbornly remained always at the border of his conscious mind... it smiled. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it.

"My, you're so quick to walk away," it chided, calmly, the voice oppressively licking his ears and sending shivers throughout his body. "Look at your wife, Tristan."

He didn't have to turn, for in the blink of an eye she would appear again in front of him, her hand eerily resting still on his shoulder. It hadn't moved at all, the sensation unchanged, and yet she stood there in front of him, eyes burrowing quietly into his. Their surroundings began to stir again, as the dreamscape was disturbed by other, deep-rooted imagery... Digging deeply into Tristan's memory, images of his wife started to appear around him, breaking through the darkness that surrounded him, plastered like tapestries on stone walls.

"Do you feel that?"

While that ominous feeling continued to press up against his mind, his wife's touch had a strange effect on him. His body felt warm. The longer her hand remained on his shoulder, the more images she extracted from his memory to throw into the elaborate tapestry of his life that continued to spread all around them, across the floor and under his feet and the walls that stretched high towards the still hidden ceiling... His head was starting to feel fuzzy, like... As if he was slowly losing consciousness inside his own dream. How was that possible.

Suddenly, his wife's grip on his shoulder tightened sharply.

"Touch her."
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