love is my religion. i could die for that.
He feels—for the first time—a twinge of guilt when he sees the way that his illusions, these things that he weaves into the air before her cause fear. His lovely features, usually wiped clean of emotion, fold into themselves, his velvety lips pulling down in the corner as he pulls the illusion into himself quickly. He drops his head slightly, the length of his forelock falling over his jewel-toned eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He has never stopped to consider that others may not look at his gifts the way that he does.
He never considered that what he views with awe, others could view with trepidation.
It leaves a strange feeling in his chest, a twisting of emotion that he struggles to breathe around, but he does his best to push it to the side, lifting his solemn gaze to her beautiful serpentine face. It becomes easier when she closes the distance between them, curving beneath his chin. It sparks something like a protective flare in his chest—a feeling he has never once harbored before—and he reaches down to press the softness of his cheek against her. He holds her like that, letting the silence swell between them.
When she talks again, he cannot stop the tear that touches the corner of his eye, the impossible sadness that her presence strikes in him swelling. “I don’t want you to disappear,” he confesses, whispering into the tangles of her mane. “I just found you. I wouldn’t want to lose you that quickly.” There is an earnest, genuine note in his voice as he gathers her into him again, as he holds her as if scared she’d disappear with as much ease as the illusions that he weaves and then releases into the wind, into the wild.
“What if I can’t ever find you again?”
i could die for you.
@[Sabbath]