05-23-2021, 06:07 PM
For the briefest moment she thinks she can see his shock etched into the angles of his dark, arrogant face. A subtle widening of eyes red enough to be borrowed rubies, a tightening of a mouth she thinks must not be suited for smiling. It is too cold and too cruel, too much like carved stone. But then she blinks those sky-blue eyes and when she opens them again there is something different gleaming on his face. Glittering eyes that watch her with a dark amusement that makes her feel small, a smirk that pulls the corners of his mouth upwards enough to make him look somehow bored and amused. She frowns, not nearly so good at schooling her expression as he is, to make it something quieter than the storm that rages on inside her chest, and then the frown deepens into a scowl that drags the corners of her mouth downwards in displeasure.
Jealous? The word feels like a slap across her face, an accusation aimed well enough that for a moment she can do nothing but seethe in silent frustration. What in the world could he possibly think she would ever want from him. Jealous? Her pulse is a roaring thing in her ears, drowning out the sound of the ocean crashing below and the wind rising up along the cliffs to tangle knots in the spun gold of her hair. “There is nothing I want from you.” She says, and her voice is something that is both hard and brittle, something she throws like fists against an armored chest. “And I am not a darling.” She is ugly and she is broken, a thousand shattered pieces put back together only halfway and all wrong. She is pain and regret, and it runs like poison through her veins until it is all she can taste every day, until sorrow and wrath are the only companions yet willing to stay by her side. But she is all of this where he cannot see, all of it trapped inside this beautiful skin and these bright burning eyes.
He’ll only see it if he looks closely enough, long enough.
But no one ever does.
Her eyes fix on his sneer for a moment, and she can feel the way her own mouth changes to match it. The curve of displeasure, a tension in lips pulled tight in disgust. But she isn’t sure that all of this disgust is for him - or at least not until he speaks one last time and the hiss of his murmured words coil around her like writhing snakes. “Then you’re even more of an idiot than you look.” She says flatly, those eyes shining like burning sapphire. “Which is honestly quite a feat.” She hadn’t noticed when it happened, but her shoulders are like knots of coiled muscle, her ears buried like flat silver in the metallic gold of her hair. There is something about him that unsettles her, something she does not trust. But she tells herself that it is because he is an outsider, because she does not know him beyond the debauchery she has seen on her walks around those particular flowers.
She forces her muscles to relax again, not wanting him to realize how much of an effect he has on her, not wanting him to realize anything about her at all. She will remain a fortress behind the mirror of her cold expression, and she will ignore the groan and crack of the fissures racing up her walls. This place is more than home. This place is an ancient tether in the story of her lineage. She’d been raised on stories of her mother growing up here - of her grandparents and their family and the adventures they had so many decades ago.
Revelrie belonged to this land, she had been born with the reflections of these very same wildflowers dancing in the dark of her shining eyes. To have him here, to watch him so besotted with those damn flowers - she sighs and the sound of it is like all the fight rushing out of her, all the fire drowned. “Whatever you came here looking for, you won’t find it in those flowers.” Her voice is hard because she knows what it feels like to forget, to let go of burdens that feel too heavy to bear. But those flowers take more than they give. She turns from him without another word, walking the last ten steps to the edge of the cliff where she can feel the wind tracing the shape of her delicate face, can feel the faint spray of the misted water from below her. She realizes she had never denied that she was avoiding him when he accused her of it, and she wonders if he will recognize that lack of acknowledgement for a truth she would never willingly share.
Of course she had been avoiding him.
He is dark and beautiful and she is certain that he might have been someone she would’ve loved to know. That it would have felt like a challenge to draw some of the ire from his eyes, to coax some delight into the wicked curve of that beautiful mouth. She would have wanted to explore the shining smears of gold across his skin - were they warm like sunshine or cold like flecks of ore? Her eyes wander with her thoughts, and she hadn’t realized she’d turned her face back around to look at him, but suddenly her eyes are all over him and she’s forgotten to frown. For a second she is one single unbroken fragment of herself, unburdened, unchanged. There is laughter in those summer sky eyes and delight in the wisp of her smile at having such beautiful company.
Then she blinks and it is gone again, and she frowns and turns her face back to the lightning she can see illuminating the clouds in the furthest place along the horizon. There’s thunder but it isn’t yet louder than her heartbeat. “Have you ever been up here when a storm rolls in?” Her voice is something quiet, almost dull, and she cannot decide if she wants him to have heard the invitation in her question or not.
Jealous? The word feels like a slap across her face, an accusation aimed well enough that for a moment she can do nothing but seethe in silent frustration. What in the world could he possibly think she would ever want from him. Jealous? Her pulse is a roaring thing in her ears, drowning out the sound of the ocean crashing below and the wind rising up along the cliffs to tangle knots in the spun gold of her hair. “There is nothing I want from you.” She says, and her voice is something that is both hard and brittle, something she throws like fists against an armored chest. “And I am not a darling.” She is ugly and she is broken, a thousand shattered pieces put back together only halfway and all wrong. She is pain and regret, and it runs like poison through her veins until it is all she can taste every day, until sorrow and wrath are the only companions yet willing to stay by her side. But she is all of this where he cannot see, all of it trapped inside this beautiful skin and these bright burning eyes.
He’ll only see it if he looks closely enough, long enough.
But no one ever does.
Her eyes fix on his sneer for a moment, and she can feel the way her own mouth changes to match it. The curve of displeasure, a tension in lips pulled tight in disgust. But she isn’t sure that all of this disgust is for him - or at least not until he speaks one last time and the hiss of his murmured words coil around her like writhing snakes. “Then you’re even more of an idiot than you look.” She says flatly, those eyes shining like burning sapphire. “Which is honestly quite a feat.” She hadn’t noticed when it happened, but her shoulders are like knots of coiled muscle, her ears buried like flat silver in the metallic gold of her hair. There is something about him that unsettles her, something she does not trust. But she tells herself that it is because he is an outsider, because she does not know him beyond the debauchery she has seen on her walks around those particular flowers.
She forces her muscles to relax again, not wanting him to realize how much of an effect he has on her, not wanting him to realize anything about her at all. She will remain a fortress behind the mirror of her cold expression, and she will ignore the groan and crack of the fissures racing up her walls. This place is more than home. This place is an ancient tether in the story of her lineage. She’d been raised on stories of her mother growing up here - of her grandparents and their family and the adventures they had so many decades ago.
Revelrie belonged to this land, she had been born with the reflections of these very same wildflowers dancing in the dark of her shining eyes. To have him here, to watch him so besotted with those damn flowers - she sighs and the sound of it is like all the fight rushing out of her, all the fire drowned. “Whatever you came here looking for, you won’t find it in those flowers.” Her voice is hard because she knows what it feels like to forget, to let go of burdens that feel too heavy to bear. But those flowers take more than they give. She turns from him without another word, walking the last ten steps to the edge of the cliff where she can feel the wind tracing the shape of her delicate face, can feel the faint spray of the misted water from below her. She realizes she had never denied that she was avoiding him when he accused her of it, and she wonders if he will recognize that lack of acknowledgement for a truth she would never willingly share.
Of course she had been avoiding him.
He is dark and beautiful and she is certain that he might have been someone she would’ve loved to know. That it would have felt like a challenge to draw some of the ire from his eyes, to coax some delight into the wicked curve of that beautiful mouth. She would have wanted to explore the shining smears of gold across his skin - were they warm like sunshine or cold like flecks of ore? Her eyes wander with her thoughts, and she hadn’t realized she’d turned her face back around to look at him, but suddenly her eyes are all over him and she’s forgotten to frown. For a second she is one single unbroken fragment of herself, unburdened, unchanged. There is laughter in those summer sky eyes and delight in the wisp of her smile at having such beautiful company.
Then she blinks and it is gone again, and she frowns and turns her face back to the lightning she can see illuminating the clouds in the furthest place along the horizon. There’s thunder but it isn’t yet louder than her heartbeat. “Have you ever been up here when a storm rolls in?” Her voice is something quiet, almost dull, and she cannot decide if she wants him to have heard the invitation in her question or not.
REVELRIE
it feels like falling, it feels like rain,
like losing my balance again and again