she fell for the idea of him
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
She remembers when she used to frequent the forests more than anywhere else.
When she still felt like a ghost, when this land felt like a stranger, and she didn’t have a place to belong.
She would slip through the dark woods, a mere wisp of white flickering between the gnarled trunks of the trees, and she would listen to the melody of their voices and ignore that persistent gnawing of her heart before disappearing again. It was easier to disappear knowing they had never seen her, than to be invisible standing right in front of them.
She still doesn’t belong – not really. She has surrounded herself with so many familiar faces that she has fooled herself into feeling like she has again found her place here, but beneath it all she knows she relies too heavily on those pillars to hold her up. She likes that she doesn’t have to explain herself, or any aspect of her life, to any of them (because she’s always hated how it sounded out loud – like it made all her mistakes and failures all the more real).
But when she rounds a bend and comes across him she feels a spark of curiosity in her chest. She stops, catching herself admiring the way the dappled sun caught his scales, and the way it lit his sage-green eyes. There is a stretch of silence where she simply stands, her dark eyes warmed by the amber glow of her halo as she watches him and tries to kill the butterflies stirring inside.
She shouldn’t be here, she thinks.
She doesn’t need him. And she doesn’t know him well enough to want him, and she knows – can feel it screaming in the back of her mind – that the last thing she needed was to give herself a reason to. She cannot possibly break herself apart more than she already has. She cannot possibly let herself be lured in again by a sharp smile and the dangerous promise in his words when he circles towards her.
And yet instead of leaving, she laughs, shedding the shadows of the trees in favor of the light of the clearing that she steps into, and if for a moment she catches his scent and thinks it might be familiar she doesn’t let it show. “Are you offering?”
When she still felt like a ghost, when this land felt like a stranger, and she didn’t have a place to belong.
She would slip through the dark woods, a mere wisp of white flickering between the gnarled trunks of the trees, and she would listen to the melody of their voices and ignore that persistent gnawing of her heart before disappearing again. It was easier to disappear knowing they had never seen her, than to be invisible standing right in front of them.
She still doesn’t belong – not really. She has surrounded herself with so many familiar faces that she has fooled herself into feeling like she has again found her place here, but beneath it all she knows she relies too heavily on those pillars to hold her up. She likes that she doesn’t have to explain herself, or any aspect of her life, to any of them (because she’s always hated how it sounded out loud – like it made all her mistakes and failures all the more real).
But when she rounds a bend and comes across him she feels a spark of curiosity in her chest. She stops, catching herself admiring the way the dappled sun caught his scales, and the way it lit his sage-green eyes. There is a stretch of silence where she simply stands, her dark eyes warmed by the amber glow of her halo as she watches him and tries to kill the butterflies stirring inside.
She shouldn’t be here, she thinks.
She doesn’t need him. And she doesn’t know him well enough to want him, and she knows – can feel it screaming in the back of her mind – that the last thing she needed was to give herself a reason to. She cannot possibly break herself apart more than she already has. She cannot possibly let herself be lured in again by a sharp smile and the dangerous promise in his words when he circles towards her.
And yet instead of leaving, she laughs, shedding the shadows of the trees in favor of the light of the clearing that she steps into, and if for a moment she catches his scent and thinks it might be familiar she doesn’t let it show. “Are you offering?”
ryatah
@[Larva]