06-19-2023, 04:06 PM
He had promised himself that he would not lose her again, but he has never been very good at keeping promises, despite all his best intentions.
It is easy to blame it on the recent set of catastrophes—one after the other, never letting them gain their footing, and if they did not fall the first time the world made certain to push them down. He is not even certain when they had officially become separated, only that one day she was there and the next she was not, and while it could have been the sinking and rising of the sea, he thinks too that it was simply their nature to be pulled apart.
No matter how close she was she still felt like trying to hold onto starlight, and he himself had never been very good at being anchored into one spot.
That reckless, unmoored streak that both his parents possessed had coalesced inside of him into something nearly unmanageable, and he had spent his entire life searching for a reason to be different.
He did not expect to see her again, is what he tells himself.
He does not look for her in the tall grasses of the meadows or in the shadows of the forest.
He does not expect to see her along a shoreline, or at the bank of a river.
If he does not look for her then he cannot miss her, and he cannot regret losing her.
That’s why it feels like a betrayal when his heart lurches inside of his chest at the sight of her—the golden light of dawn touching her face, and then grass and flowers around her as almost an afterthought. He goes to her against his better judgment, the barest of smiles lifting the corner of his mouth when he says her name: “Ethenia.” He almost leaves it at that—just her name, because anything he says after that is surely going to be foolish and stupid—but he clears his throat and continues, “I’m glad that you’re alright.”
It is easy to blame it on the recent set of catastrophes—one after the other, never letting them gain their footing, and if they did not fall the first time the world made certain to push them down. He is not even certain when they had officially become separated, only that one day she was there and the next she was not, and while it could have been the sinking and rising of the sea, he thinks too that it was simply their nature to be pulled apart.
No matter how close she was she still felt like trying to hold onto starlight, and he himself had never been very good at being anchored into one spot.
That reckless, unmoored streak that both his parents possessed had coalesced inside of him into something nearly unmanageable, and he had spent his entire life searching for a reason to be different.
He did not expect to see her again, is what he tells himself.
He does not look for her in the tall grasses of the meadows or in the shadows of the forest.
He does not expect to see her along a shoreline, or at the bank of a river.
If he does not look for her then he cannot miss her, and he cannot regret losing her.
That’s why it feels like a betrayal when his heart lurches inside of his chest at the sight of her—the golden light of dawn touching her face, and then grass and flowers around her as almost an afterthought. He goes to her against his better judgment, the barest of smiles lifting the corner of his mouth when he says her name: “Ethenia.” He almost leaves it at that—just her name, because anything he says after that is surely going to be foolish and stupid—but he clears his throat and continues, “I’m glad that you’re alright.”
— LEND ME YOUR HAND AND WE'LL CONQUER THEM ALL,
BUT LEND ME YOUR HEART AND I'LL JUST LET YOU FALL —
BUT LEND ME YOUR HEART AND I'LL JUST LET YOU FALL —
@Ethenia