10-25-2019, 03:08 AM
{ and all we are is skin and bone trained to get along,
forever going with the flow but you're friction }
She has never been in a situation before where she has wished that she could hear so badly as she did right now.
It is not just because she is humiliated and frustrated, though she is absolutely both of those things. Her parents and her older brother seemed to know her inside and out; it was like she was born being able to communicate with them. It wasn’t a struggle, and in a way it had given her a false sense of ease. She had thought for awhile that it would be like this with everyone. That she could look at them the way she did her family and that they would know how to express themselves in a way that she would understand. She did not have to hear her mother’s voice to know when Starsin was irritated, and she did not have to hear whatever it is her father manages to say to bring a smile back to her face. She can see it all on their faces, she can read them plain as day.
But he was different.
She doesn’t know how to read him, and she is sure that he doesn’t know how to read her. She can’t even be certain if he understood what she meant when she had so carefully whispered that she couldn’t hear, and now she was worried over how foolish she would look if she repeated herself.
Beyond even that, though, she so badly wanted to know what his voice sounded like. She wanted to know what words sounded like when spoken from a glass mouth, if it was different from everyone else’s. He is unlike anything she has ever seen before, and she cannot imagine that his voice is any less unique. She thinks, much like his face, that she would know that voice anywhere that she might hear it.
If only, if only.
He takes a step forward, and she responds by shifting backwards ever so slightly. Her wings continue to hug tighter to her glowing sides, as though that might somehow keep her from shattering him apart. She focuses on his lips, then, chewing on her own worriedly as she tries to decipher what he’s saying. It was a question, she can tell by the tilt of his head, and she thinks she can make out the word ‘break’. “Sometimes when I touch things, they just fall apart,” she answers him tentatively, her silver eyes captivated by the way the sun still reflected off his face. “And you...you look easy to break.”
It is not just because she is humiliated and frustrated, though she is absolutely both of those things. Her parents and her older brother seemed to know her inside and out; it was like she was born being able to communicate with them. It wasn’t a struggle, and in a way it had given her a false sense of ease. She had thought for awhile that it would be like this with everyone. That she could look at them the way she did her family and that they would know how to express themselves in a way that she would understand. She did not have to hear her mother’s voice to know when Starsin was irritated, and she did not have to hear whatever it is her father manages to say to bring a smile back to her face. She can see it all on their faces, she can read them plain as day.
But he was different.
She doesn’t know how to read him, and she is sure that he doesn’t know how to read her. She can’t even be certain if he understood what she meant when she had so carefully whispered that she couldn’t hear, and now she was worried over how foolish she would look if she repeated herself.
Beyond even that, though, she so badly wanted to know what his voice sounded like. She wanted to know what words sounded like when spoken from a glass mouth, if it was different from everyone else’s. He is unlike anything she has ever seen before, and she cannot imagine that his voice is any less unique. She thinks, much like his face, that she would know that voice anywhere that she might hear it.
If only, if only.
He takes a step forward, and she responds by shifting backwards ever so slightly. Her wings continue to hug tighter to her glowing sides, as though that might somehow keep her from shattering him apart. She focuses on his lips, then, chewing on her own worriedly as she tries to decipher what he’s saying. It was a question, she can tell by the tilt of his head, and she thinks she can make out the word ‘break’. “Sometimes when I touch things, they just fall apart,” she answers him tentatively, her silver eyes captivated by the way the sun still reflected off his face. “And you...you look easy to break.”
Lilt