05-29-2021, 01:23 PM
Hyperia
YOU’VE BEEN ON MY MIND SINCE THE FLOOD
Hyperia barely has parents—let alone ones to write home about. Her mother was oblivious to the children she bore, much like she had been to those before the triplets, and her father saw them more as pawns than his actual children. Hyperia though had nothing to compare it against—nothing to try to make sense of it. Her life was simply what it was. She had been born and immediately separated from her sisters and her life was now this river. This water. It began and ended on its shores and even now, standing away from the water, she begins to feel the faint ache that comes from being apart for too long. The fatigue.
But the conversation is too enthralling for her to mind too much.
She is content to suffer the consequences as she tips her head back to watch Wrenley, studying the elegant way that she dips a shoulder and lifts her nose. The easy way that she moves as though the night settled over her shoulders like a cloak. It was fascinating. “I wouldn’t know,” she answers honestly with a shy tip of her lips. “I’ve never been with someone so I don’t know what it is like to be without them either.”
There’s no self-pity in her voice. Just facts. As though she could divorce the ache in her bones away from the fact that she was, as always, all alone. But she isn’t now, she thinks, and her red eyes warm slightly with the thought, the water moving gracefully as she dips her head in greeting.
“That’s a beautiful name,” she says before offering her own. “I’m Hyperia.”
But the conversation is too enthralling for her to mind too much.
She is content to suffer the consequences as she tips her head back to watch Wrenley, studying the elegant way that she dips a shoulder and lifts her nose. The easy way that she moves as though the night settled over her shoulders like a cloak. It was fascinating. “I wouldn’t know,” she answers honestly with a shy tip of her lips. “I’ve never been with someone so I don’t know what it is like to be without them either.”
There’s no self-pity in her voice. Just facts. As though she could divorce the ache in her bones away from the fact that she was, as always, all alone. But she isn’t now, she thinks, and her red eyes warm slightly with the thought, the water moving gracefully as she dips her head in greeting.
“That’s a beautiful name,” she says before offering her own. “I’m Hyperia.”
HEAVEN HELP THE FOOL WHO FALLS IN LOVE
@[Wrenley]