10-02-2024, 05:07 AM
(06-16-2017, 04:11 AM)SETEKH. Wrote: [align=center]TELL ME HOW TO BREATHE[div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 460px; min-height: 9px; font-family: georgia; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 20px"]Setekh's sleep was peaceful, to the naked eye. Nestled amongst his clanmates at the edge of the warriors' den, the Egyptian canine slept quietly, his breathing slow and soft while his eyelashes fluttered slightly. Despite being nearly three years old, the sha creature looked almost innocent in that moment, as if all of the pain that he had suffered through in his few years of living had been wiped, as if he was nothing but a simple child again. The bags and shadows that hung starkly under his eyes were less noticeable in his quiet slumber, and his thin body had relaxed entirely, his muscles no longer tense and the frown he constantly wore having left his face, replaced by jaws that hung slightly ajar. He seemed so relaxed, so calm. His dreams were filled with nothingness. It had to have been a blessing; after all, nothingness was comforting. Nothingness was calm. Right?
Wrong.
To Setekh, nothingness was a nightmare. With nothing to focus on to divert the painful thoughts that he buried in the back of his mind while awake, silence sent his unconscious mind into a whirlwind of thought. He was in a deep sleep, and yet he was reflecting again, unable to get away from his own memories in his unconsciousness, where he was faced with no one but himself. He was reflecting on his old life, on his death, on his children; most of all, though, he was reflecting on his husband. Radio was gone, and he knew that. He knew that he was dead, that he was never coming back. He knew that he was a widow. He was a father without a family, a husband without a mate, and yet he held onto the thought that everything would suddenly go back. That everything would be the way it once was again. He still wore his collar and his tag, he still wore his engagement bracelet, but it was not because he was sad. It was because he was holding onto a false hope. He was holding onto a false hope that this was all just a dream.
But he knew that it wasn't a dream.
The sha creature had suddenly come to that unconscious conclusion as he lie in his nest, odd eyes then opening wide as he stared forward into the darkness of the den he called home. His heart was beating fast, and he felt his eyes beginning to sting. His thin form shuddered, and he heaved himself up, standing on silent paws; he had to go somewhere else. Anywhere but here. Stepping carefully over the sleeping forms of those he knew, he ducked out of the den, his paws carrying him in a random direction that he didn't bother to think about. His head was down, his pawsteps fast; he could feel his throat beginning to close up, his face beginning to flush, and a pressure behind his eyes. It had been a long time since he had cried, and he didn't want to. He was done with crying. He was done with being sad.
As he pressed himself to the trunk of a charred tree, he realized that he couldn't hold it back. His chest hitched, and he felt the tears rolling down his muzzle, dripping down into the blackened leaf litter. He felt so defeated. He had worked so hard to keep back these sort of feelings, to never let them get the best of them again, and yet here he was again, reduced to a crying mess in the middle of the night. Once he started, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. He was filled with so much hurt that he had refused to let out, and now he was paying the price. He wanted to let go of these things. He didn't want to hurt anymore. Breathing in a shuddering breath, he lifted his right paw, his teeth wrapping around his bracelet. If he wanted to forget, he needed to stop holding onto these things. He needed to stop holding onto something that was never going to come back. With one fluid motion, he jerked his head back, breaking the string of the bracelet. He watched it fall to the ground, his sobs only becoming more painful, stuttering in his throat, choking him. And yet he pressed on, sliding his collar off of his neck, allowing it to fall to the dirt. This was for the best. He knew that this was for the best.
It didn't feel that way.
Canzet slowly approached the crying Egyptian dog until he was inches from him. Tenderly, he began lapping at the tears rolling down Setekh's muzzle with his tongue in an attempt to soothe him as he wept.