01-31-2021, 04:47 PM
WORSHIP
He wonders if her desire to fly has anything to do with the stars splashed across her skin. It seems unfair that he should have been born with wings when he is made of the earth, colored like gems dredged up out of the dirt. The sky does not belong to him and he does not think that he belongs to it. If he could, he thinks, he would give her his wings. He would see to it that she could return the stars and he would be proud to have done it.
He watches her a beat before he tilts his head almost imperceptibly, acutely aware of the small step she takes toward him. He wonders, too, what it would be like to touch her. If he could taste the sky on her skin. If the stars would shimmer and move beneath the weight of his mouth. But he does not touch her either. They remain separate, independent, two things plainly removed from each other.
He does not have whatever courage it takes to close up all that space.
He nods, resolute. She smiles but he does not. “I will teach you,” he echoes and he believes it. He does not doubt it even for an instant. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, though he does not know why.
The name is as beautiful as the rest of her and his expression softens, though he still does not smile. “Stellaria,” he murmurs, breathless. “My name is Worship.” A peculiar name, he thinks. It does not suit him, not in the way that her name suits her.
“Why do you want to fly so badly?” he asks her, quiet, as if he is afraid to ask it.
He watches her a beat before he tilts his head almost imperceptibly, acutely aware of the small step she takes toward him. He wonders, too, what it would be like to touch her. If he could taste the sky on her skin. If the stars would shimmer and move beneath the weight of his mouth. But he does not touch her either. They remain separate, independent, two things plainly removed from each other.
He does not have whatever courage it takes to close up all that space.
He nods, resolute. She smiles but he does not. “I will teach you,” he echoes and he believes it. He does not doubt it even for an instant. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, though he does not know why.
The name is as beautiful as the rest of her and his expression softens, though he still does not smile. “Stellaria,” he murmurs, breathless. “My name is Worship.” A peculiar name, he thinks. It does not suit him, not in the way that her name suits her.
“Why do you want to fly so badly?” he asks her, quiet, as if he is afraid to ask it.
you were the boat that breached in the tale of conrad
oh, i loved you with the good and the careless of me
but it all goes bad
oh, i loved you with the good and the careless of me
but it all goes bad
@[Stellaria]