[open] the glad indomitable sea

[kensley]

i swore the days were over of courting empty dreams
i worshiped at the altar of losing everything

There is a spark of guilt at the center of him as she folds her wings against her sides again.
Don’t let me keep you, he wants to say but doesn’t.
Because he has learned that there isn’t a soul alive who needs his permission for anything.
And, without the warmth that had buoyed him through his youth, such a remark would likely fall flat. He has learned that, sometimes, it is better not to say anything at all.

So, he merely smiles (a drifting, wayward thing) in the wake of her reassurance. If he tries, he can convince himself that he only looks tired. That the lack of light in his eyes can be blamed on exhaustion and not something else entirely, something much darker. But he knows. Of course he knows that they know. Each and every one of them. They can tell it just by looking at him that he is not like them, not anymore. Because he had been arrogant enough to believe that he was somehow above death. (Though, really, it had not been arrogance at all but rather something desperate, something that did not care if he died). And death had made him pay for it.

He glances at the horizon. He had not expected to find anyone this far out either, though he admittedly had not given it much thought. He had passed hundreds of horses in the time it had taken him to arrive here and he had paid them no mind. But there is nowhere left for him to go now. He has reached the proverbial edge of the world and it is just the two of them here.

Her question is simple, certainly. There is one singular thing that set him in motion and, if he tried, he could probably determine exactly what it was. He has had his fair share of introspection as of late, however, and there is a thick beat of silence that follows before she offers her name.

“Oceane,” he echoes and then smiles that same placid smile because what a fitting name it is, “I’m Kensley.” Kensley, he says, because he has thought of nothing else to call himself despite the fact that the name does not fit him anymore. No, Kensley had been someone else entirely. “I suppose it just felt like a nice day for a walk,” he muses and drags his focus back to her face, thinks that it complements the splendor in the sky behind her. “I guess I lost track of time.” Still, he smiles because, though he lacks warmth, he is still good-natured.

“And you?” he asks then, tilting his head as he studies her.

i'm finding all this well-worn sadness i never knew i kept
and i still chase you into heartache every time you take a step

@[Oceane] i'm so sorry for the delay!