02-17-2020, 01:56 AM
she fell for the idea of him
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
She can feel an uncharacteristic frustration begin to mount because she feels like she is talking in circles, that everything she says he is refusing to listen to and it’s going unheard. But she does her best to keep it hidden, to tuck it far away behind her veil of softness, and the only thing that escapes is a trembling sigh. “I don’t pity you. I just care about you,” she says before she fully registers that those are the words that are leaving her tongue. She diversts her gaze, then, a warmth crawling up her skin, because she hadn’t meant to admit aloud that she felt anything at all for him beyond a sexual attraction.
It wasn’t exactly a secret, of course. There was a reason she repeatedly went back to those that she does. Carnage, Ashhal, and Atrox – none of them are nothing to her. Sex wasn’t hard to come by; she could get that anywhere, from anyone. The knotted and tangled threads that kept her tethered to them went beyond that base desire – for her, at least. She was constantly reminded though that it was not reciprocated.
“Fourth best?” She repeats after him incredulously, and this time the heat on her face is from humiliation. He could have just been making a general statement, but she wasn’t entirely ignorant. “Bold of you to assume I have a choice between so many men.” As if she could just pick any one of them; as if she was not at the mercy of every single one of them, as if she was not just a cure for their boredom. There was no choice to be made when there was nothing on the table. The only one that had ever wanted her was gone.
Unexpectedly, she closes the space between them. He could lash out at her, and inwardly she braces for it. But she takes the risk, drawing alongside of him until her small body rests lightly against his, and her lips reach to touch his cheek where she whispers almost pleadingly, “Stop fighting with me, please. I’ve chosen you countless times, and you can’t deny it.” Because before Carnage, and before Atrox, there had been him – the one that for some reason she just couldn’t say no to, the one that lured her away from her perfect, everlasting love without actually trying and without promising her anything.
The sound of their daughter stirring pulls her attention away from him, and when she utters that stammering swear word in her sweet, childish voice, she can nothing but shake her head and laugh. “She looks and sounds like you,” she says as she returns to the pale filly, reaching down to lip lightly at her forelock. “I want to name her Noel,” she says without looking at him, knowing that he’s going to say that he doesn’t care, or snap something about how it doesn’t make a difference to him what she names her. She has already accepted that this was a losing battle, that he had locked himself behind a wall he would never let her breach, but she could hide behind a mask just as well as he could.
It wasn’t exactly a secret, of course. There was a reason she repeatedly went back to those that she does. Carnage, Ashhal, and Atrox – none of them are nothing to her. Sex wasn’t hard to come by; she could get that anywhere, from anyone. The knotted and tangled threads that kept her tethered to them went beyond that base desire – for her, at least. She was constantly reminded though that it was not reciprocated.
“Fourth best?” She repeats after him incredulously, and this time the heat on her face is from humiliation. He could have just been making a general statement, but she wasn’t entirely ignorant. “Bold of you to assume I have a choice between so many men.” As if she could just pick any one of them; as if she was not at the mercy of every single one of them, as if she was not just a cure for their boredom. There was no choice to be made when there was nothing on the table. The only one that had ever wanted her was gone.
Unexpectedly, she closes the space between them. He could lash out at her, and inwardly she braces for it. But she takes the risk, drawing alongside of him until her small body rests lightly against his, and her lips reach to touch his cheek where she whispers almost pleadingly, “Stop fighting with me, please. I’ve chosen you countless times, and you can’t deny it.” Because before Carnage, and before Atrox, there had been him – the one that for some reason she just couldn’t say no to, the one that lured her away from her perfect, everlasting love without actually trying and without promising her anything.
The sound of their daughter stirring pulls her attention away from him, and when she utters that stammering swear word in her sweet, childish voice, she can nothing but shake her head and laugh. “She looks and sounds like you,” she says as she returns to the pale filly, reaching down to lip lightly at her forelock. “I want to name her Noel,” she says without looking at him, knowing that he’s going to say that he doesn’t care, or snap something about how it doesn’t make a difference to him what she names her. She has already accepted that this was a losing battle, that he had locked himself behind a wall he would never let her breach, but she could hide behind a mask just as well as he could.
ryatah