She is caught off guard by the place he names as home, and those mismatched gold and black eyes leap wordlessly to his face even as she struggles to conceal her surprise. How can it be that his home is the only place she would consider calling hers, that those ancient trees and the damp, rolling fog were things he knew as intimately as she did. She feels unsteady at this revelation, and even though she forces her eyes to be soft and quiet, forces this shock from a face that tries so hard to be stiff and stone, it is several long moments before she can tear her gaze from his face.
“Ah, yes.” She says finally, and the words are suddenly as stiff as her shoulders beneath those black and gold wings. “I know how to get there.” She does not tell him that she was born in the Taiga, that those ageless trees saw more of her growth than either of her parents had. He is only supposed to be for now, not forever, that was the promise she had made with herself when he opened his eyes and she had chosen to stay. Chosen, for just this once, not to be a ghost. And now they would return to a place that was home to both of them, a place so vast that somehow, she had never seen him.
She is sure of that, sure she would know him in a heartbeat if she’d seen him before.
He is brighter than any sun and warmer than any summer. He has spring storms in those quiet green eyes, a liveliness that even now, even broken and exhausted, she cannot help but feel taken in by.
But it isn’t until he smiles, just the shadow of movement across lips she hadn’t meant to be staring at so closely, that she realizes how much her choice was going to change things. “You should definitely be quiet and save your strength.” She says, but there is a gentle kind of light in the mismatched colors of her eyes as she glances over at him sideways with a barely suppressed smile unfurling at the corners of her delicate black mouth. She is glad he has no way of knowing how rare her smiles are, or how unfairly easy it was for him to coax one out of her.
He winces though, and the smile vanishes from her lips, warmth traded for worry in her eyes as she examines him more closely from beneath the deepened furrows of a pale brow. She almost interrupts him with a question at his pain level, but the gift of his name silences her at once.
Nashua.
There is some small part of her that clings to his name, learns the weight of it on her tongue, marvels at the shape of it on her lips. But there is too much of her fathers dark living inside her chest, and that dark thrashes wildly at the way she wants to know him, to know more than his name, more than the wild green of those summer eyes, more than that single smile that had claimed her gaze so effortlessly. She knows he is Nashua, but now she wants to know who Nashua is because right now he is a broken impossibility making something inside her chest ache in a way she has no experience with.
So she pauses. It is long enough for that uncertain gaze to wander across his face again, long enough that she forgets to hold the shadows against her skin, long enough that he will see her flashes of deep gold wing feathers and the ugly patchwork of black and shining gold-soaked white where they meet in jagged lines across her delicate body, odd fractions of two wholes somehow unwilling to come together in her even while her sister, her own twin, was the perfect melding of darkness and light.
She feels naked like this, feels bare down to her thoughts and her heart and this pain inside her chest that never goes away. He can see the fractures in her skin, the shining gold-white and the chasms of black - but will he understand how deep those fractures run? That these chasms are as vast inside her as they are upon her skin? She pulls the shadows back in at once, but they are slow and sluggish, and they rebel against her growing exhaustion even as she holds them desperately close against her chest. But it is like holding onto water, and the shadows spill from her and into the evernight almost as soon as she pulls them against her skin, leaving her bare once more.
She has nothing left to pretend with, nothing because she gave it all to him. To Nashua. There is a flare of fury and it burns like storms in her eyes, flaring dark for one single beat of her heart until her eyes settle against his and she knows this anger is entirely misplaced. That she would give it all to him again if time were to unwind.
Death would never take him, she would never allow it.
Though she’s never been so boldly vulnerable - and it feels so much like sliding a blade into her own chest that she almost stumbles over the words when she lifts her chin and turns to him, saying, “I know it’s very odd.” She means, of course, these fractures that run so much deeper beyond the contrast of colors he can see, these eyes that seem as though they should belong to two horses instead of one. “It’s why I keep the shadows close. But I’m too tired now.” Her eyes leave his face again, her jaw clenching. But then something sparks in the gold, alights in the black, and there is a flicker of movement at the corner of her delicate mouth where secret amusement pulls at her lips. “You can stare if you want, but I might get the wrong idea.”
“Ah, yes.” She says finally, and the words are suddenly as stiff as her shoulders beneath those black and gold wings. “I know how to get there.” She does not tell him that she was born in the Taiga, that those ageless trees saw more of her growth than either of her parents had. He is only supposed to be for now, not forever, that was the promise she had made with herself when he opened his eyes and she had chosen to stay. Chosen, for just this once, not to be a ghost. And now they would return to a place that was home to both of them, a place so vast that somehow, she had never seen him.
She is sure of that, sure she would know him in a heartbeat if she’d seen him before.
He is brighter than any sun and warmer than any summer. He has spring storms in those quiet green eyes, a liveliness that even now, even broken and exhausted, she cannot help but feel taken in by.
But it isn’t until he smiles, just the shadow of movement across lips she hadn’t meant to be staring at so closely, that she realizes how much her choice was going to change things. “You should definitely be quiet and save your strength.” She says, but there is a gentle kind of light in the mismatched colors of her eyes as she glances over at him sideways with a barely suppressed smile unfurling at the corners of her delicate black mouth. She is glad he has no way of knowing how rare her smiles are, or how unfairly easy it was for him to coax one out of her.
He winces though, and the smile vanishes from her lips, warmth traded for worry in her eyes as she examines him more closely from beneath the deepened furrows of a pale brow. She almost interrupts him with a question at his pain level, but the gift of his name silences her at once.
Nashua.
There is some small part of her that clings to his name, learns the weight of it on her tongue, marvels at the shape of it on her lips. But there is too much of her fathers dark living inside her chest, and that dark thrashes wildly at the way she wants to know him, to know more than his name, more than the wild green of those summer eyes, more than that single smile that had claimed her gaze so effortlessly. She knows he is Nashua, but now she wants to know who Nashua is because right now he is a broken impossibility making something inside her chest ache in a way she has no experience with.
So she pauses. It is long enough for that uncertain gaze to wander across his face again, long enough that she forgets to hold the shadows against her skin, long enough that he will see her flashes of deep gold wing feathers and the ugly patchwork of black and shining gold-soaked white where they meet in jagged lines across her delicate body, odd fractions of two wholes somehow unwilling to come together in her even while her sister, her own twin, was the perfect melding of darkness and light.
She feels naked like this, feels bare down to her thoughts and her heart and this pain inside her chest that never goes away. He can see the fractures in her skin, the shining gold-white and the chasms of black - but will he understand how deep those fractures run? That these chasms are as vast inside her as they are upon her skin? She pulls the shadows back in at once, but they are slow and sluggish, and they rebel against her growing exhaustion even as she holds them desperately close against her chest. But it is like holding onto water, and the shadows spill from her and into the evernight almost as soon as she pulls them against her skin, leaving her bare once more.
She has nothing left to pretend with, nothing because she gave it all to him. To Nashua. There is a flare of fury and it burns like storms in her eyes, flaring dark for one single beat of her heart until her eyes settle against his and she knows this anger is entirely misplaced. That she would give it all to him again if time were to unwind.
Death would never take him, she would never allow it.
Though she’s never been so boldly vulnerable - and it feels so much like sliding a blade into her own chest that she almost stumbles over the words when she lifts her chin and turns to him, saying, “I know it’s very odd.” She means, of course, these fractures that run so much deeper beyond the contrast of colors he can see, these eyes that seem as though they should belong to two horses instead of one. “It’s why I keep the shadows close. But I’m too tired now.” Her eyes leave his face again, her jaw clenching. But then something sparks in the gold, alights in the black, and there is a flicker of movement at the corner of her delicate mouth where secret amusement pulls at her lips. “You can stare if you want, but I might get the wrong idea.”
ILLUMINAE
we can't dream when we're awake,
or fall in love with a heart too strong to break
@[Nashua]