The Edge of Night[March 3010][Ruivo][CW]
Aug 13, 2018 18:59:22 GMT -5
Post by MITHIEL on Aug 13, 2018 18:59:22 GMT -5
***Self Harm, Suicide attempt. Read with Caution***
Mithiel started with the unsealed letter, the letter Ruivo had left for her, his goodbye. At first she had been stunned and then:
If time could be bottled, this moment was to be forever frozen in time's wheel. Eternity could stretch on, sprawling across the depths of EA’s wheel but this moment was suspended out of liquid time. This moment was frozen as Mithiel poured over the love of six thousand years, Poured over Ruivo’s love for her. And she thought of all the reasons that she loved him and even reasons that might seems so trivial yet to Mithiel, they were reasons that mattered. For his honest hard working elvish soul, a soul that to her was warm and inviting with a light that called her home. Arms that were strong and had wrapped her up tightly in his light, wrapped her in his love over the ages, in their darkest moments. Arms that closed out the world and pushed darkness at bay. Gave her strength to continue on, when she had none. Her safe haven. This ellon that with a stern look could silence her strong tongue’s sharp words. Send blood coursing through dilating veins. Steal the very breath from her lungs. With just a single word command could mentally and if the moment was correct, even physically bring her to heel and kneeling, looking upon him with soft eyes, gently parted sculpted lips.
“Rui…” tears hit her cheeks. As she read his goodbye for the second time and stared at the stack of unopened letters and a pair of golden silver rings. Lips quivered tracing the beautiful rings, tracing the metal. Afraid to put the smaller of the two on her finger. Afraid to wear the ring that had long been denied to her. Mithiel admired the ring while a whimper ripped through her. Squeezing eyes shut as she felt the metal as if she was touching Ruivo. “Why” questioning out loud, he had explained in the letter and yet it was not enough, why this way. Why seperation like this. Her jaw clenched and Mithiel’s heart ached, ached in a way she had never known. Not even with the passing of her parents had she felt this burning sensation. A slow throbbing pain that burned and there was no relief. None. Her vellyn... Her vilissën, maurinīdē and miruvórënya lissepé. He was gone, not just gone from Imladris but gone from Arada, his fëa flown to Lord Námo’s halls. He was in Mandos. Clutching the letter to her chest, Mithiel let out a gut wrenching cry. Her lips trembled saliva coating them and spilling from her mouth. Her nose ran with mucus as while her whole frame, petite. Shook from sorrow, racked with pain tears.
Breath came in ragged gasps of air. Choking on the air as she tried to gulp it down into her lung which cried out that she breathe. Hyperventilating.
Word from two ages ago played in her thoughts. .I do not… ever… wish you to feel such agony nor fear again. Only joy, comfort. Pleasure. I want to… make you happy. ”
“I am in agony” she whispered.
Discarding the letter, another letter Mithiel reached for. Hastily breaking the wax seal, as she began to read just the first few paragraphs. Much the same result as his goodby letter. Tears uncontrollably. Halfway through the pile of letters, the tears had Mithiel had managed to compose herself save for bloodshot eyes. The letter she was reading caused Mithiel to feel warmth creeping to her cheeks as she reached the middle of the letter. Her breath became a bit shallow and her cheeks tinged red glancing at the door as if someone would walk in and catch her in the act of reading such a letter. The same fire she had felt in Sirion, Evendim, Ost-in-Edhil raged in her veins. Breath ragged as she read over perfectly punctured words of Ruivo’s flame forged desire without a hint of innocence upon them. The words “Just like that evening in the forges of Gwaith-i-Mírdain” lingered in her thoughts.
”Ruivo…” Mithiel purred as a kiss was planted against the top of her foot, another up her ankle. The swipe of his tongue against her skin. Firm his hand upon her calf, drawing her leg upwards, hooked against his shoulder. Mithiel breathed as she watch Ruivo turn his face to continue kissing up her leg.
Ruivo’s tunic laid discarded the workbench behind him. The fires of the forges banked for the few hours everyone was asleep. Ruivo grinned as his fingers skimmed skin. “Nervous?”
“We are going to get caught” Her voice squeezed as she was perched on a cooled anvil, holding onto the horn with one hand the outer edge with the other of the rather large anvil. Ruivo was smirking until he heard the sound of boot steps. Swearing under his breath, grabbing his Váyasilmë from where he had her perched and his tunic. Fire still burning through his blood, dragging Mithiel through a pair of closed doors into the jewel room. Her backside rapidly pressed against the wall and Ruivo kissed her hard.
“I told you…” a grin against his mouth. As Ruivo softly growled at her.
Days later:
“Morgoth burn me” Mithiel muttered into a glass of spiced apple wine, leaning against the pillows of Ruivo’s bed. Muttering for nearly the tenth time that day, reading through yet another letter. Fify in the pile by the chair of her sitting room, number fifty-one in her hand. Lips curled in displeasure and Mithiel’s eyes raged with the fury of a snowstorm against Fanuidhol.
Over the course of four days, she read the letters over and over. At first she had read them in her rooms. The first time she had burst into tears and cried reading the pile of letters, having gone through the sketchbook. The second read through was much the same as the first. Tears and tears rolled down her face. Tears for having ever doubted Ruivo’s love for her. Shame in herself and then….Anger came. By the seventh read through, anger had filled Mithiel. Four days later, Mithiel was in Ruivo’s room reading the letters after having spent all evening looking through the sketchbook. The book opened to the image of two rings. Sketched in Ruivo’s hand. Sometime during the second age. She burned blood in anger.
“Elf scum!” Mithiel snarled tossing the love letter across the bed, she had read the letters nine times this evening and stalked to the sitting room. The gold of her wedding band on her index finger flashed in the candlelight. Her eyes caught the glint of gold and she glanced at her right hand. Bringing her hand up to stare at the ring. Not pure gold but a blend of gold and silver. Arien and Tillion. The light of their lives. Mithiel’s hand moved to the thin chain that dangled between her breasts. Her hand pressing Ruivo’s ring against the center of her breastbone.
“You the think you can go to Mandos without me” Mithiel’s voice whispered to the air. There was no one there, she had not slept in nearly a week and a half. Mithiel had found in Ruivo’s washroom a small blade that had been hidden. The blade was razor sharp, she knew for she had already sliced her finger open with it. The burning on her left hand had stopped and there was blood on the floor from where the drops had been permitted to fall. Cold and unfeeling Mithiel had become, Ruivo...he was gone. Her love. Her joy...her life’s partner. She missed him. She could not wait for a ship. Summer was too far, the years would be too long for her, to be parted from Ruivo. Mithiel knew her thoughts to be impure.
The elf maid was not entirely lucid. Grief had taken over Mithiel. Grief and her promise, the silent promise she had made in the winter prior to the one that had just passed. It was the late edges of winter, almost ready to burst into spring. Mithiel’s choker necklace lay on the floor of Ruivo’s sitting room, the clasp having broken away. Now she sat at Ruivo’s desk, drinking wine and slowly dragging a blade over the top of her arm in thought. A mouthful of wine swallowed down and Mithiel quickly sliced the blade across the side of her upper forearm. Purposely avoiding the artery. She wanted to taste the pain first. Taste the slice of the blade against her flesh. Hissing almost in twisted pleasure. Mithiel sliced again, this time on the opposite arm. Closing her eyes. Control. She had control of this. This pain that she could taste. “I will meet you there” her words caressed the air. Her love, she would meet her love there. Embrace him in Námo’s halls, wrap her arms around him and wait with him. They were bound until Arda unbroken. Even then Mithiel knew she was bound to Ruivo. She could feel it in her blood. Their blood. Which called to her, bid at her to take the pain. Another slice, then another. Blood coating her arms, running down and over onto the carpet. Leaving a trail as she walked and half stumbled to the bedroom. To the place that her body would rest, where she would be discovered. Her fëa will have long since fled when they found her. She only had to complete the task. Standing, staring at the bed with her back to the door. Trying to decide the best way to commit the act. A deep plunge to the belly? Between the fourth and fifth ribs? Perhaps….perhaps the best way…was simply that which Ruivo had saved her from. The slitting of her own throat.
Mithiel started with the unsealed letter, the letter Ruivo had left for her, his goodbye. At first she had been stunned and then:
If time could be bottled, this moment was to be forever frozen in time's wheel. Eternity could stretch on, sprawling across the depths of EA’s wheel but this moment was suspended out of liquid time. This moment was frozen as Mithiel poured over the love of six thousand years, Poured over Ruivo’s love for her. And she thought of all the reasons that she loved him and even reasons that might seems so trivial yet to Mithiel, they were reasons that mattered. For his honest hard working elvish soul, a soul that to her was warm and inviting with a light that called her home. Arms that were strong and had wrapped her up tightly in his light, wrapped her in his love over the ages, in their darkest moments. Arms that closed out the world and pushed darkness at bay. Gave her strength to continue on, when she had none. Her safe haven. This ellon that with a stern look could silence her strong tongue’s sharp words. Send blood coursing through dilating veins. Steal the very breath from her lungs. With just a single word command could mentally and if the moment was correct, even physically bring her to heel and kneeling, looking upon him with soft eyes, gently parted sculpted lips.
“Rui…” tears hit her cheeks. As she read his goodbye for the second time and stared at the stack of unopened letters and a pair of golden silver rings. Lips quivered tracing the beautiful rings, tracing the metal. Afraid to put the smaller of the two on her finger. Afraid to wear the ring that had long been denied to her. Mithiel admired the ring while a whimper ripped through her. Squeezing eyes shut as she felt the metal as if she was touching Ruivo. “Why” questioning out loud, he had explained in the letter and yet it was not enough, why this way. Why seperation like this. Her jaw clenched and Mithiel’s heart ached, ached in a way she had never known. Not even with the passing of her parents had she felt this burning sensation. A slow throbbing pain that burned and there was no relief. None. Her vellyn... Her vilissën, maurinīdē and miruvórënya lissepé. He was gone, not just gone from Imladris but gone from Arada, his fëa flown to Lord Námo’s halls. He was in Mandos. Clutching the letter to her chest, Mithiel let out a gut wrenching cry. Her lips trembled saliva coating them and spilling from her mouth. Her nose ran with mucus as while her whole frame, petite. Shook from sorrow, racked with pain tears.
Breath came in ragged gasps of air. Choking on the air as she tried to gulp it down into her lung which cried out that she breathe. Hyperventilating.
Word from two ages ago played in her thoughts. .I do not… ever… wish you to feel such agony nor fear again. Only joy, comfort. Pleasure. I want to… make you happy. ”
“I am in agony” she whispered.
Discarding the letter, another letter Mithiel reached for. Hastily breaking the wax seal, as she began to read just the first few paragraphs. Much the same result as his goodby letter. Tears uncontrollably. Halfway through the pile of letters, the tears had Mithiel had managed to compose herself save for bloodshot eyes. The letter she was reading caused Mithiel to feel warmth creeping to her cheeks as she reached the middle of the letter. Her breath became a bit shallow and her cheeks tinged red glancing at the door as if someone would walk in and catch her in the act of reading such a letter. The same fire she had felt in Sirion, Evendim, Ost-in-Edhil raged in her veins. Breath ragged as she read over perfectly punctured words of Ruivo’s flame forged desire without a hint of innocence upon them. The words “Just like that evening in the forges of Gwaith-i-Mírdain” lingered in her thoughts.
”Ruivo…” Mithiel purred as a kiss was planted against the top of her foot, another up her ankle. The swipe of his tongue against her skin. Firm his hand upon her calf, drawing her leg upwards, hooked against his shoulder. Mithiel breathed as she watch Ruivo turn his face to continue kissing up her leg.
Ruivo’s tunic laid discarded the workbench behind him. The fires of the forges banked for the few hours everyone was asleep. Ruivo grinned as his fingers skimmed skin. “Nervous?”
“We are going to get caught” Her voice squeezed as she was perched on a cooled anvil, holding onto the horn with one hand the outer edge with the other of the rather large anvil. Ruivo was smirking until he heard the sound of boot steps. Swearing under his breath, grabbing his Váyasilmë from where he had her perched and his tunic. Fire still burning through his blood, dragging Mithiel through a pair of closed doors into the jewel room. Her backside rapidly pressed against the wall and Ruivo kissed her hard.
“I told you…” a grin against his mouth. As Ruivo softly growled at her.
Days later:
“Morgoth burn me” Mithiel muttered into a glass of spiced apple wine, leaning against the pillows of Ruivo’s bed. Muttering for nearly the tenth time that day, reading through yet another letter. Fify in the pile by the chair of her sitting room, number fifty-one in her hand. Lips curled in displeasure and Mithiel’s eyes raged with the fury of a snowstorm against Fanuidhol.
Over the course of four days, she read the letters over and over. At first she had read them in her rooms. The first time she had burst into tears and cried reading the pile of letters, having gone through the sketchbook. The second read through was much the same as the first. Tears and tears rolled down her face. Tears for having ever doubted Ruivo’s love for her. Shame in herself and then….Anger came. By the seventh read through, anger had filled Mithiel. Four days later, Mithiel was in Ruivo’s room reading the letters after having spent all evening looking through the sketchbook. The book opened to the image of two rings. Sketched in Ruivo’s hand. Sometime during the second age. She burned blood in anger.
“Elf scum!” Mithiel snarled tossing the love letter across the bed, she had read the letters nine times this evening and stalked to the sitting room. The gold of her wedding band on her index finger flashed in the candlelight. Her eyes caught the glint of gold and she glanced at her right hand. Bringing her hand up to stare at the ring. Not pure gold but a blend of gold and silver. Arien and Tillion. The light of their lives. Mithiel’s hand moved to the thin chain that dangled between her breasts. Her hand pressing Ruivo’s ring against the center of her breastbone.
“You the think you can go to Mandos without me” Mithiel’s voice whispered to the air. There was no one there, she had not slept in nearly a week and a half. Mithiel had found in Ruivo’s washroom a small blade that had been hidden. The blade was razor sharp, she knew for she had already sliced her finger open with it. The burning on her left hand had stopped and there was blood on the floor from where the drops had been permitted to fall. Cold and unfeeling Mithiel had become, Ruivo...he was gone. Her love. Her joy...her life’s partner. She missed him. She could not wait for a ship. Summer was too far, the years would be too long for her, to be parted from Ruivo. Mithiel knew her thoughts to be impure.
The elf maid was not entirely lucid. Grief had taken over Mithiel. Grief and her promise, the silent promise she had made in the winter prior to the one that had just passed. It was the late edges of winter, almost ready to burst into spring. Mithiel’s choker necklace lay on the floor of Ruivo’s sitting room, the clasp having broken away. Now she sat at Ruivo’s desk, drinking wine and slowly dragging a blade over the top of her arm in thought. A mouthful of wine swallowed down and Mithiel quickly sliced the blade across the side of her upper forearm. Purposely avoiding the artery. She wanted to taste the pain first. Taste the slice of the blade against her flesh. Hissing almost in twisted pleasure. Mithiel sliced again, this time on the opposite arm. Closing her eyes. Control. She had control of this. This pain that she could taste. “I will meet you there” her words caressed the air. Her love, she would meet her love there. Embrace him in Námo’s halls, wrap her arms around him and wait with him. They were bound until Arda unbroken. Even then Mithiel knew she was bound to Ruivo. She could feel it in her blood. Their blood. Which called to her, bid at her to take the pain. Another slice, then another. Blood coating her arms, running down and over onto the carpet. Leaving a trail as she walked and half stumbled to the bedroom. To the place that her body would rest, where she would be discovered. Her fëa will have long since fled when they found her. She only had to complete the task. Standing, staring at the bed with her back to the door. Trying to decide the best way to commit the act. A deep plunge to the belly? Between the fourth and fifth ribs? Perhaps….perhaps the best way…was simply that which Ruivo had saved her from. The slitting of her own throat.