"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The forest is the last place Litotes expects to run into Starsin; and yet, there she was, alone and quiet like he’s never quite seen her before.
How long has it been since he felt that twisting in his chest, that devilish pounding? When he looks at her without the damning weight of another’s gaze, there is unabashed affection, pure adoration, and depthless sorrow. Once they lived their lives allowing such emotions to lead their every whim; but now—now they have families, spouses, and peace.
Did Litotes and Starsin ever stand a chance for such a lovely thing?
But he doesn’t reveal the racing of his mind or the rush of blood in his heart, no. His only tell is the outpouring in his gaze, and even then he quickly recovers with a polite smile.
“Starsin,” Lie announces, trying to disguise the tension he feels at their quiet solitude. He remembers the last time he saw her, just a smile and a hello in passing as Lilt visited her family and he tended to their children. The feeling always seemed to be mutual: their interactions were minimal, and if one were to be at a family reunion, the other would find an excuse to keep their distance. It had to have been a year, perhaps two. And many more since they had an actual conversation.
It was too painful, truly. Even if their hearts remained elsewhere.
“How, uh, how have you been?” Lie finally manages, holding his head high and peering at her (that quiet hopefulness never leaves his eyes, even if he tries to mask it with indifference and niceties).
and let the cool air in, feel the night slip in as it softly glides across your back and i hope you leave right before the sun comes up so i can watch it alone
and let me crawl inside your veins. I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain.
She didn’t come to the forest often anymore, mostly because she did not go anywhere at all anymore.
She did not grow restless to the cage of boredom as she once had, did not feel her skin itch with the need to shatter something into dust. She listened to the thoughts and dramas of those around her and while she might inwardly roll her eyes at their petty grievances or think about how she would have meddled into their situation one upon a time, she does not actually do or say anything. She does not listen to gossip of the kingdoms or even pay attention to who is leading what, because she knows their names will be forgotten as soon as the next best thing comes along.
She does not care for any of it, because truth be told, she is happy.
She does not linger so close to Ophanim out of obligation or some invisible shackle. She did not feel burdened by the children she gladly births for him, or like she had somehow become domesticated by family and a more lax lifestyle.
It was a relief to not be wound so tight all the time, to finally be rid of that relentless need to remind everyone of where they belonged—below her. Her days consisted only of keeping an eye on the children that chose to still hang close to their family, and her nights were spent curled beneath the same warm wing as all the nights before.
When she steals away to the forest it is not because she needs respite from her family, but simply a change in scenery.
And maybe to shatter a tree or two, for old times’ sake.
“Lie,” she calls him by his nickname, still unable to bring herself to address him as anything else, even though they feel more like strangers than they have ever been. It is not lost on her that this is the first time the two of them have been alone in several years, and the tension that brews beneath her dappled skin is nearly electric. There had been a time when she had nearly risked it all for him—both of them continuously caught in a riptide of their own making, and not seeming to care who drowned along with them.
She would never risk losing Ophanim now, and she is already afraid of how this meeting could be misconstrued.
She wants to snap at him, for no reason other than she is annoyed at being in this situation, but she thinks of Lilt and stays her own tongue. “I’m fine,” she answers him in a tone that is slightly clipped, her dark blue eyes meeting his coolly, seemingly indifferent.
But she is still undeniably everything that she has always been, and her smile suddenly turns sharp as her head tilts in that calculating way of hers. “Are you lost? I don’t think Lilt is in the forest.”
starsin
it’s not like me to be so mean. you’re all I wanted. ( just let me hold you Like a hostage. )
There is only the light of surprise in Lie’s eyes because he forgot over the years they did not speak how truly biting Starsin can be. An endless stream of memories plays behind the quietly perturbed golden gaze. His lips fall into a flat, unimpressed line and he breathes in deeply. This is the dance they have done their entire relationship, from affection to suspicion to exhaustion, one always cuts the other.
But with those years of forgetting, Litotes learned to forgive; and unlike their previous encounters—riddled with casualties—he doesn’t overreact nor even think forgiveness necessary anymore.
Perhaps it is the softness of love or the softness of happiness—perhaps both—that dims the fiery gold of his gaze and loosens the hard line of his mouth. He doesn’t dwell on it.
“We’re still doing this after all these years?” Lie asks with a small smile and lilting laugh. “If we’re still doing this, I could say the same thing about Ophanim.” Were it said in any kind of hostile tone, it might have been a crass retort; but Litotes longs for there to be good will and good company between them, so his voice is only gentle and teasing.
A gripping sadness closes around him in the following seconds, clenching his heart and calling shadows to twirl protectively around him. He’s always been the softer of the two, the one incapable of keeping his heart off his sleeve. That history rears its head and begs for him to not show that sadness now, to bare his neck in crystalline vulnerability; but he denies the instincts, the memories desperate to resurface, as the sadness glimmers clearly in his eyes.
“Truthfully, I, uh—I don’t want to do this—argue, or whatever, with you, so.” Lie stops and clears his throat, straightening to his full height as he does.
“I’d love to just talk, Starsin. But I understand if you don’t want to, and I’ll happily respect that.”
and let the cool air in, feel the night slip in as it softly glides across your back and i hope you leave right before the sun comes up so i can watch it alone
and let me crawl inside your veins. I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain.
Starsin and Lie have always been an explosive mix of fire and gasoline, both of them too sharp, too reactive to be anything but incendiary. They could have just as likely ended up as enemies as lovers, and maybe in some strange way they have always been both.
And perhaps that is what leaves her so on edge, because what are they if they are neither? How is she supposed to feel if she does not love him as she once had, but also does not hate him? She doesn’t know what to do with this tamed down version of the flame he had once been capable of sparking in her chest, and her natural instinct is to fan it into an inferno.
That isn’t what she wants, though, not truly. She wants what he wants—for them to simply just be okay.
“He gives me a long leash,” comes her wry retort, since they both knew that is not true. No one maintained any kind of control over her, and never had, but even more than that, Ophanim would never try. They had both been allowed the luxury of seeing just how much self-inflicted destruction their relationship could withstand, and thankfully they had come out of it stronger. The last thing he would ever do is try to dictate where she goes, or who she speaks with.
But that did not change the fact that she was still ever aware of her past transgressions, of her sins she would never be able to properly atone for. Not just against Ophie, but against Lie as well. When that familiar sadness reflects in his topaz eyes she finds herself biting her tongue, and her own face softens just slightly. “We can talk,” she finally relents, and while it sounds as though the words are forced from her mouth she is secretly glad. Glad that he had laid his armor down knowing full well she would have engaged in a fight if he had let her, because she has always been the type to fight just for the sake of fighting.
So she settles back, her constellation dapples glowing in the dark of the forest, and her sharp, dark blue eyes settled on his familiar face. “How are you?” She asks, the question purposely toned with an exaggerated formality, but there is a smile threatening to break through. She finally lets it, and she follows up in her normal voice, her stance noticeably relaxing. “No, really, how are you?” She hesitates, and though it is only for a few moments there is a clear sense of her debating something, as if there are words on the tip of her tongue she can’t quite bring herself to say. “I’ve missed you,” she finally admits, and then falls quiet.
starsin
it’s not like me to be so mean. you’re all I wanted. ( just let me hold you Like a hostage. )
Extending a hand of friendship is not as easy as Lie would like to make it seem. It is no longer resentment that might stay his hand, but a writhing, quiet sort of pain. He wonders if the low ache will ever truly go away, the smallest of curiosities about a future where the two of them were able to choose each other.
But their realities are vastly different from the fantasies that once held the shadow-weaver in a vice grip.
Still, that pain lingers, gently thrumming a background melody to all his actions. Even if they were never meant to be together, Starsin taught him so much. Now, as she concedes, she teaches him about forgiveness.
An echo of what once was fades even in Starsin’s initial sarcasm. Lie cannot help but give purchase to the radiant smile flying gracefully to his surface. His eyes crinkle with pure amusement. They’d been as thick as thieves before their lives tangled into something else, and now he remembers those first days together in Loess.
“Wonderful, actually,” he answers, then dips his head. “I’ve missed you, too,” he adds, though it is lower and more hesitant than his first reply. Lie turns his head, swallows, then brings his eyes back to Starsin’s. “You seem to be doing well yourself, uh . . .” he trails off, suddenly realizing he’s forgotten how to talk to her after years apart.
“I never said how sorry I was,” Lie says suddenly, eyes growing sharp. “For calling you a coward. And being cruel when . . . in Sylva. And everything else, too.” There’s too much to sum up, to apologize for, but he hopes she knows he remembers every single wrong turn. And that he regrets all of them.
“When I say I miss you, I mean it. Just some semblance of who we were when we were young. I’ve never had a friend like you,” he swallows, then takes a step forward. A grin softens the hard lines of his lips.
“This is weird. Should I start being mean to you now?”
and let the cool air in, feel the night slip in as it softly glides across your back and i hope you leave right before the sun comes up so i can watch it alone
