Tag: Sims 3

lordofsunshadowandsailor:

Torn between unsatisfactory possibilities of escape – diving into the dam, jumping back into the desert, or running along the wall’s edge – that only immobilize him, he always misses the moment of insight that makes him realize to be one
of them, winged creatures of the boundless waters. 

Except that he does not know how to use his wings.

Unlike them, he does not know how to fly. Will they teach him?

The moment he becomes aware, too, of no longer bearing the black rags he regularly wore in the desert, but instead being naked like the warrior angels, Tobio panics, and starts praying. In silence, his most heartfelt prayer. 

Dear Lord, protect me from what I desire. 

As if he has screamed at them instead, the band of angels takes sudden but brief flight, lingering in his proximity, more cautious than scared, like vultures leaving a corpse they still intend to return to.

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lordofsunshadowandsailor:

Without
being noticed by them, who are absent-mindedly engaged in chasing games among themselves, and bomb diving into the placid waters of the dam, Tobio observes the bold band in awe. Their striking beauty, though, somehow poses a threat – or perhaps it is the freedom of their gracefully dwelling in the open skies that instills fear in him, once he realizes his will is to stay rooted, glued to the top of the wall. Despite his newly grown wings. They are too big, too vast, too mighty, making him too visible, too distinguishable – or recognizable. 

Is it possible that the dam frightens him more than the desert ever has? Or is it because he now knows the familiar desert to be no more than a small pool of sand, and the dam to be the unknown immeasurable? Or is it the wings that frighten him the most, and the new ability they should entitle him to?

As the warrior angels finally see him, like metal particles being irreversibly drawn to a magnet, with that speed of immediacy particular to dreams that is an abolisher of distances, all at once

a rampaging squadron is closing with low-passes on Tobio. Not with their giant hands or strong arms, the angels try to embrace him with their wings. If mighty in size but still soft in appearance, while flapping they emit raucous, metallic sounds that really disorientate Tobio. Their caresses bring back to him the sensorial, nearly nostalgic memory of the heat of the desert – located somewhere down below, or behind, but very far away now – as if the feathers are actually tongues of fire licking his skin – a feeling he cannot quite distinguish between excruciating or pleasurable, and whether he abhors or loves it.

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