11-30-2018, 10:22 AM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
Wallace’s eyes open widely, and he quietly notices with a sideways glance. Her surprise almost elicits a grin – humored, at least – but somehow Tiphon manages to keep his expression contemplative. His brows furrow because he is still considering the possible outcome of their island. If it survives, what then? Who will stay? The magnitude of the situation didn’t get a chance to settle before he responded to her, but now its wake ripples in the forefront of his mind. His broad answer seems to have sufficed for now, but soon there will be a greater demand from him.
Such as familiarizing himself with the population, just as a start.
Looking at Wallace and seeing the dullness in her gaze confirms his beliefs. Her confession solidifies it. Intently, he listens and clutches the words tightly to his chest. He can relate, but at least her memory remains intact. She can likely recall what changed in her, how it happened. Unlike Tiphon, she can learn and move on if she so pleased.
But her challenge almost seems to mean she doesn’t.
”Just a feeling,” he admits when their eyes hold onto each other, a crooked grin lifting the corner of his mouth. ”I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.” Not that it is bad, this subdued version of her with the dismissive eye rolls and quips. Wallace has already added color to his black-and-white world; she has added awe and fascination. Although there is doubt in her gaze, Tiphon’s opinion remains unyielding, his own face remaining softened by his grin. ”We can learn about ourselves together then,” if she has forgotten herself, her old self, then they already have something in common. They can try to piece themselves together, or they can reform in ways they never expected. ”It could be fun.” Tiphon breaks their distance; he shatters the space between them when he reaches forward to bump her shoulder. His muzzle presses to her soft skin, electricity shooting through him during the brief contact.
When he withdraws, his smile wavers. It nearly flickers from existence but his eyes are still bright, still hopeful. ”When all of this is over – the plague, I mean – will you go back to Ischia? Or will you stay here with me?” If the island even survives, he thinks but never says in fear that it would make it true. The idea of their little paradise sinking beneath the waves churns his stomach, but he mutely vows to somehow keep it afloat.
Such as familiarizing himself with the population, just as a start.
Looking at Wallace and seeing the dullness in her gaze confirms his beliefs. Her confession solidifies it. Intently, he listens and clutches the words tightly to his chest. He can relate, but at least her memory remains intact. She can likely recall what changed in her, how it happened. Unlike Tiphon, she can learn and move on if she so pleased.
But her challenge almost seems to mean she doesn’t.
”Just a feeling,” he admits when their eyes hold onto each other, a crooked grin lifting the corner of his mouth. ”I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.” Not that it is bad, this subdued version of her with the dismissive eye rolls and quips. Wallace has already added color to his black-and-white world; she has added awe and fascination. Although there is doubt in her gaze, Tiphon’s opinion remains unyielding, his own face remaining softened by his grin. ”We can learn about ourselves together then,” if she has forgotten herself, her old self, then they already have something in common. They can try to piece themselves together, or they can reform in ways they never expected. ”It could be fun.” Tiphon breaks their distance; he shatters the space between them when he reaches forward to bump her shoulder. His muzzle presses to her soft skin, electricity shooting through him during the brief contact.
When he withdraws, his smile wavers. It nearly flickers from existence but his eyes are still bright, still hopeful. ”When all of this is over – the plague, I mean – will you go back to Ischia? Or will you stay here with me?” If the island even survives, he thinks but never says in fear that it would make it true. The idea of their little paradise sinking beneath the waves churns his stomach, but he mutely vows to somehow keep it afloat.
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION
@[Wallace]