[open] there's an art to life's distractions

[chasmata]

chasmata

She doesn’t know much about arrogance, certainly not enough to recognize that what he says could be considered arrogant. It seems to come only from a place of indisputable truth and that truth is that he is something worth looking at. They are both unique but he is unique in a way that makes him more universally appealing.

Should she tell him that he’s handsome? No, she thinks he must know it already. Should she tell him that she’s glad that she can see him for more reason than one? No, that doesn’t feel right either. So she just smiles and hopes that her expression doesn’t come off as vacant. She’s still learning how to navigate interactions like these, the ones that take place at night, and she finds she doesn’t always know what to do with her face.

He saves her from having to come up with something interesting or charming to say, though, and she is immediately grateful. “That’s a nice name,” she says and her smile deepens, “it suits you. My name is Chasmata.” She sinks a little closer then, like knowing his name gives her any right to be close to him, so that she can get a better look at the sparks thrown from his hair.

“Do they burn?” she asks, quiet.

the moonlight, baby, shows you what’s real
but there ain’t language for the things i feel

@[Laurelin]