He Makes The Stars Shine Brighter [Sting x Reader] || First Book

29: From Where It's Foretold

》edited: 06.15.2017

[a/n]: yes there was another change in format and it's been ages since i've last edited a chapter i need to get my shit together anyway enjoy my loves!

xx

The day was bright with the reign of the sun's illumination, the kind that brought life to dew-cleaned petals and seeped aliveness past the skin and into the bones. The kind where working housewives or the reading househusband would squint at the window for a few moments and quietly nod at their child's whims before the child escapes into the grass where there friends wait with instruments and scraped knees.

The scenery before you stretches until the ends are nothing but haziness that's inked with sunlight. Trees upon trees stacked in rows, smaller plants in front, tossing their leaves to a breeze you couldn't feel. The air was clean, pure where you breathed it in, and the grass tickled your feet as if it was inviting you to stay and play, forever. All of it was a healthy green, not a weak, withering plant in sight, and you can't begin to imagine the chaos of the deeply-rooted fingers of the tree's roots deep underground as they impacted against each other for sustenance to feast upon.

You've never visited a place as fictionally luscious as this in your travels, where the trees raised their branches at an impossibly even height, from above they would appear like a masterfully-executed phalanx of soldiers turned dumb from their fearlessness. Not even the supersized, titanic forests that are beautiful when admired from afar, but darkly shaded and chilling in truth, grew equally; for the trees clambered over one another in the slow years of their growth, stunting their own species just so they were able to creep closer to the heavens, where they daydreamed of belonging in, where beings are gargantuan and overseeing as they belonged in.

An equality such as the openness that expands in front of you was not known to even the gentle quietness of the warring forest trees, and the distant, deceitful buzz of an insect fails to trick you into believing the peaceful exterior of the band of trees. The ends where the haze becomes one with the sunlight are closer than you remember them being, and you can't help but feel this is all so, so wrong.

It's when you hear a hum too complex for the recreation of a songbird that's just new folded its well-worked wings, a hum too innocent and eerily familiar that follows a tune you don't recognize. You see yourself, seated under one of those trees, with your legs crossed over the fat root that just barely disappears under the ground and your back arched away from the bark that's crawling with fire ants. Your hands move, as if lost, in the air, maybe trying to match the nonsensical tune.

The haze creeps closer, you can see it with the smallest turns of your head now, approaching like a wave rolling with the ferocious capability of destruction, but bouncing along the water with the playfulness of the juveniles on the shoreline. When the haze meets, and they crash into each other like the calamitous things they were, the last thing you see is a bright green no longer defined by the outlines of the trees, and the snarl of a pair of eyes as they take your humming lips in between their dirty claws, cutting them carelessly.

》time skip

You're in the dirtiest place you've ever seen, and a body that was yours and also wasn't yours lied close to the ground; the head that sang songs with hope, turning to the sun without fear, was now hung low coughing spit to a ground that wasn't any cleaner.

The floor reflected unnatural light, like water that's just beginning to dry, dark and only visible because of the breathing body that's forced against it. The walls are painted with heavy, dirty lines, as if the sufferings of a thousand souls were locked here and forced to illustrate their agony with only something equally as filthy and disregarded. There are chains, made of metal that's existed long enough that it bears the red-brown scars of rust, that hang only slightly, and make clinks of alarm when the body moves more than it's been instructed to. Red colors the chains, faded, like a poor excuse of decoration; the wrists connected to it are red and sore from where the cuffs rest, but healthily colored everywhere else- a temptation this dingy place cannot resist. Already, there are round bites of wet filth where this place has tried to begin the ruining of the human who's head is crowned with hair that falls on either side of her face.

There's the heavy thud footsteps, almost purposeful in their volume, for not even the most fidgety amateur could be fail that badly in a hushed approach. The girl turns up her head, careful not to upset the chains that linger around her wrists like hounds on careful guard. The shadows do not part to reveal a face to the kidnapper, instead clinging closer to them it they were an influential ally. There's only the rap of their feet, like a silent 'Welcome home!'

The footsteps stop, and the girl is given a view of boots that are colored dully lest she chooses to look up. The echoes cease, and even the girl's frequent breathing bows to muteness in respects. Then, the kidnapper, with his mask of darkness, raises his hand in such rapidness, the girl has no time to flinch when she's struck.

When you're relocated to another scene, the transition isn't as beautifully disguised as the soundless lapse of waves of sunlight crashing into one another. You raise a helpless arm, and the noise that parts from your lips is never expelled into the open air.

》time skip

"What's- what, what the hell happened to my- to her?" the voice is one that's achingly familiar, dressed in all the dark tones of anguish. There's no scenery that's painted before you, only a whiteness and voices that come from nowhere and everywhere.

"You don't seem to like it?" a flitted amusement is the casual response to the first voice's suffering. It's silent. You're scared.

"This will be the end, caused by you and you alone."

You turn around frantically, and there's nothing but the lonely whiteness that scars your eyes. It's infinite, and a single outstretched arm needs an entire era of moments to reach the end of the trap you're in.

"The first blood to begin this all is-"

There's a pause, but you don't know what to expect.

"-Sting Eucliffe."

A hand reaches out from nowhere, all edged talons and scales that reflect the whiteness and everything that isn't human. It seizes you with terrifying might, taking you before you can scream out for nobody to hear.

》time skip

It's the first time you wake up crying, crying more than you've ever cried in all of your waking hours, throat tight and choked on tears yet to be spilled on the floral-scented sheets.

Immediately, you're pulled into Sting's embrace as you continue sobbing. Sting doesn't speak, just his quiet breathing against your desperate gasps before you lose your voice to crying again.

"Baby, baby, it's okay. Everything's okay, I'm here- I love you, I love you, everything's okay," Sting says, more gentle than even his embrace, more gentle than the solace the sheets provide when he lies you against them again.

You almost tell him that it's not okay, because when he folds his arms around you and kisses you, smiling, as if his affections could make better the turmoil in your heart. He tells you to close your eyes without closing his own, and you're reminded of the faceless voice that tells you of Sting's demise. He tells you it's okay more than he thinks you need to hear it, as if it could overflow the stagnant water of your worries, and you respond with the same silence that makes Sting wonder if he's making a difference.

"I'm sorry it's just-" you curl closer to Sting, and he invites you to his warmed chest with arms too eager.

"Really bad? It's okay, it really is," Sting reiterates. He breathes a lifetime of relief when you slowly, reluctantly flutter your eyes shut. 

It's only when you're oh, so close to falling asleep, with the useless sounds muted and your senses numbed, do you realize that it's been raining.