03-13-2021, 08:50 PM
chasmata
His answer suits him, she thinks. There is something beautiful about the water, something electric. She finds she can imagine him at the ocean’s edge more vividly than she can imagine him anywhere else and she smiles despite herself. (Maybe she should be embarrassed that the thought makes her smile, even if she doesn’t know why, but she seems to have outgrown her embarrassment through the duration of their conversation.)
She wants to tell him about the ocean in Silver Cove but she refrains. She suspects that the ocean is the kind of thing that is the same no matter where you are. Powerful, all-consuming. There is something about knowing that it’s her favorite that puts a pang of regret in her chest as she acknowledges that she did not appreciate it as much as she could have when she lived in the Cove. She rarely ventured down to the shore because the things that interested her stuck mostly to the shadows at the edge of the woods.
She makes a mental note to return to the ocean, to really appreciate whatever it is about the ocean that calls to him. “It suits you,” she says, nodding, “the ocean.” The churning surface, she thinks, the unknown depths. But she doesn’t say either of these things out loud.
She had hoped they might simply skate past her mention of the gatekeeper, but he calls the conversation back to it. She tries not to cringe, swallowing thickly. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “That’s just what he called himself. He had us pick trick or treat and I picked…” she pauses, biting back a grimace. “I picked trick.” She draws in a long breath, hesitating, wondering if she should continue. “And I got… I got these.” She pulls back her upper lip to reveal the fangs she had sprouted as she left the Mountain but she does not mention the taste for blood she had developed soon after.
She wants to tell him about the ocean in Silver Cove but she refrains. She suspects that the ocean is the kind of thing that is the same no matter where you are. Powerful, all-consuming. There is something about knowing that it’s her favorite that puts a pang of regret in her chest as she acknowledges that she did not appreciate it as much as she could have when she lived in the Cove. She rarely ventured down to the shore because the things that interested her stuck mostly to the shadows at the edge of the woods.
She makes a mental note to return to the ocean, to really appreciate whatever it is about the ocean that calls to him. “It suits you,” she says, nodding, “the ocean.” The churning surface, she thinks, the unknown depths. But she doesn’t say either of these things out loud.
She had hoped they might simply skate past her mention of the gatekeeper, but he calls the conversation back to it. She tries not to cringe, swallowing thickly. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “That’s just what he called himself. He had us pick trick or treat and I picked…” she pauses, biting back a grimace. “I picked trick.” She draws in a long breath, hesitating, wondering if she should continue. “And I got… I got these.” She pulls back her upper lip to reveal the fangs she had sprouted as she left the Mountain but she does not mention the taste for blood she had developed soon after.
the moonlight, baby, shows you what’s real
but there ain’t language for the things i feel
but there ain’t language for the things i feel
@[Laurelin]