BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
He almost hesitated to find her, to address what elapsed during their first meeting. Somehow, she knew him. Although she said his name, it was with a barbed tongue that startled him. To have confronted her then, in the heated arrival of her family, would have been poor judgment on his part, so he bided his time. Once they determined their numbers and reassured all were safe, Tiphon slipped away since no one seemed to be in dire need of his assistance.
They’ve since clustered the island, but he doesn’t at all mind. This is a sanctuary for all.
Conversations ring across the open sky when Tiphon stirs from his rest and scales the hills and forests. His is lackadaisical in manner as he seizes the opportunity to observe and memorize the forgotten and overgrown trails. His molten eyes occasionally peer up at the palms then sideways to the gurgling stream. A smile gradually spreads as the sun blankets across his porcelain body. This could easily be home. It is just a matter of work and effort to dust away the cobwebs and entice many others to find refuge here. It will happen, he knows. Something in his gut tells him it will work out.
It’s during his musings that Tiphon finally discovers her. A smile threatens to broaden across his handsome face, but he suppresses it with the reminder of their latest encounter. Stepping out from the sea of tropical plants, he finds himself in front of her. ”Hello again,” he begins slowly, his mind already reeling. The way she knew him – and greeted him – was enough cause of concern, but what worried him most is that he remembers nothing but others remember him. ”We’ve met before, but I genuinely cannot remember. I’m sorry.” The confession hesitates in his throat. He shifts uncomfortably as a sense of failure washes across him, choking him of air until he musters the strength to swallow it and ask for help.
”Can you remind me? Maybe tell me if we have a history? I only remember the name of Ischia, but nothing more.”
They’ve since clustered the island, but he doesn’t at all mind. This is a sanctuary for all.
Conversations ring across the open sky when Tiphon stirs from his rest and scales the hills and forests. His is lackadaisical in manner as he seizes the opportunity to observe and memorize the forgotten and overgrown trails. His molten eyes occasionally peer up at the palms then sideways to the gurgling stream. A smile gradually spreads as the sun blankets across his porcelain body. This could easily be home. It is just a matter of work and effort to dust away the cobwebs and entice many others to find refuge here. It will happen, he knows. Something in his gut tells him it will work out.
It’s during his musings that Tiphon finally discovers her. A smile threatens to broaden across his handsome face, but he suppresses it with the reminder of their latest encounter. Stepping out from the sea of tropical plants, he finds himself in front of her. ”Hello again,” he begins slowly, his mind already reeling. The way she knew him – and greeted him – was enough cause of concern, but what worried him most is that he remembers nothing but others remember him. ”We’ve met before, but I genuinely cannot remember. I’m sorry.” The confession hesitates in his throat. He shifts uncomfortably as a sense of failure washes across him, choking him of air until he musters the strength to swallow it and ask for help.
”Can you remind me? Maybe tell me if we have a history? I only remember the name of Ischia, but nothing more.”
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION
@[Wallace]