Her eyes return to him when he shifts to face her, when he moves forward so the sun is no longer a colorless streak of bright across his brow. She makes no effort to move herself, though, not further to avoid him, not closer to bury her nose in the crook of his shoulder. But it does cross her mind, like an old, forgotten impulse. Like remembering a shadow of herself, of who she used to be. It is so tempting to breathe him in - especially when he names his home, when he uses that word she knew he would.
“Ischia.” She repeats him with a little, single nod. Drops her chin and glances away from him for a second so she can hold close and hidden the emotion that swirls to life in those otherwise hollow brown eyes. She had known it of course, had been certain by his ocean and brine smell and the sun-dried tangles in that salt-rich mane. She had lived there once, after all, hidden away in a cave with someone who had fought to keep distance between them. He must have hated how her heart rebelled against that.
She doesn’t realize there’s a smile on her lips now, soft and gentle and reaching for her eyes. Doesn’t realize until it’s blossomed into something visible for just a heartbeat, until she pushes it away.
“I lived there once.” She tells him, turns to watch him again, soft and with hints of old starlight slipping back into her voice. “I’ve never been a strong swimmer though, so I don’t visit often.” Another smile, thinking of another man, another time. But this one is gone just as fast as the first. “There was a cave hidden by vines and greenery, with a small spring near it that washed back out into the ocean.” And a bone-man full of dark and depth who kept her safe when others hadn’t. “It,” he, “was the last home I had.”
“Ischia.” She repeats him with a little, single nod. Drops her chin and glances away from him for a second so she can hold close and hidden the emotion that swirls to life in those otherwise hollow brown eyes. She had known it of course, had been certain by his ocean and brine smell and the sun-dried tangles in that salt-rich mane. She had lived there once, after all, hidden away in a cave with someone who had fought to keep distance between them. He must have hated how her heart rebelled against that.
She doesn’t realize there’s a smile on her lips now, soft and gentle and reaching for her eyes. Doesn’t realize until it’s blossomed into something visible for just a heartbeat, until she pushes it away.
“I lived there once.” She tells him, turns to watch him again, soft and with hints of old starlight slipping back into her voice. “I’ve never been a strong swimmer though, so I don’t visit often.” Another smile, thinking of another man, another time. But this one is gone just as fast as the first. “There was a cave hidden by vines and greenery, with a small spring near it that washed back out into the ocean.” And a bone-man full of dark and depth who kept her safe when others hadn’t. “It,” he, “was the last home I had.”