08-22-2015, 05:46 PM
| and I ran back to that hollow again the moon was just a sliver back then and I ached for my heart like some tin man when it came, oh, it beat and it boiled and it rang She has been told many things about herself before, but this is the first time that she has been told that. It is an odd sensation to be told that she is calming, and she cannot say that it is an unwelcome feeling; it was soothing to be told that she had that affect on others, and her smile is soft and genuine as she lets it sink in. “I am glad to hear that,” she says softly, although she is still not sure why. Perhaps because he looks like the kind of soul that needed to be quieted—perhaps because he seemed so grateful for it. Whatever the reason, she was quieting and he was here, and she felt some sort of obligation to stay for him—like an anchor in a world that seemed like it had been altogether too cruel to him. “What brought you here today?” she asks, and she lowers her silver voice a tad as if she could break him with just too much volume. She sidles over to him until their bodies touched as gently as a whisper, her filled out form resting against his emaciated skeleton. Concern races through her veins, but she does not voice it. And, like that, her mind is quieted too. Where before she had been filled with thoughts of Kingslay and the metallic-tang his presence left in her mouth, now she thought of nothing. Her mind was a pond without a single ripple—just solid and calm and serene. It has been a while since she had felt that kind of tranquility, and she reveled in it, pressing her nose comfortably against his neck again for a second, hoping that she would be able to draw out the peaceful moment for a second longer. |