09-12-2021, 03:23 PM
“Always.” She says, and there is a flicker of amusement that worms its way into her spirit, into those mountain water eyes, into the quiet line of a mouth too weary to smile. He has her attention now, and she isn’t sure if it’s just because she’s resigned herself to this conversation with a pushy stranger, or if it is because there is a dark inside of her deeper than any night and he has a light inside of him that beckons her nearer. It is absolutely not because of the way he laughs, or the way the sound is something that drags her from the bog of this vastness growing inside of her.
A moment ago she wouldn’t have cared if the bluntness of her question prickled at him, but a moment ago he hadn’t shown her bright eyes and warm laughter and a general immunity to the dourness of her mood. So she is glad when his face doesn’t darken, when instead a grin trips all the muscles of his mouth to watch her. “A shame for them to be so ignorant, I’m sure.” She says, but there is an absolute lack of cruelty in her tone, and even that dour mood lifts a little at his easy wit.
“I’m not sure.” She answers him honestly, taking it as an invitation for her to drift closer and examine the places where bone erupt through his skin like glaciers in the ocean. “It seems like it should make you uncomfortable.” There is only curiousness in her voice as she reaches out like she might touch the skin where it is red and raw, an open wound against bone stained murky with pink. But then she pulls away again, not in horror, but with the illusion that she has any manners at all.
She of course has very few.
“I don’t like the way it smells.” She decides, and she moves to stand where she is watching his face again instead of the topography of a body that looks as though it must be in constant pain. “The blood, I mean.” She does not tell him why or what it reminds her of, what pain that scent dredges up inside of her. “So,” she says instead, turning from him to walk the path down to the nearest shore, intent on bringing him to soak in the warm waters of the Pampa ocean, “what does it feel like to be inside out?”
She doesn’t pause to ask if he wants to come, or explain where it is she intends to take him - and maybe it is part defense mechanism. Creating this moment where he has the choice to follow, or to excuse himself. But she isn’t sure if it’s for her sake or for his, can’t possibly explain to this stranger that she is cursed. That eventually everyone in her life finds suffering.
A moment ago she wouldn’t have cared if the bluntness of her question prickled at him, but a moment ago he hadn’t shown her bright eyes and warm laughter and a general immunity to the dourness of her mood. So she is glad when his face doesn’t darken, when instead a grin trips all the muscles of his mouth to watch her. “A shame for them to be so ignorant, I’m sure.” She says, but there is an absolute lack of cruelty in her tone, and even that dour mood lifts a little at his easy wit.
“I’m not sure.” She answers him honestly, taking it as an invitation for her to drift closer and examine the places where bone erupt through his skin like glaciers in the ocean. “It seems like it should make you uncomfortable.” There is only curiousness in her voice as she reaches out like she might touch the skin where it is red and raw, an open wound against bone stained murky with pink. But then she pulls away again, not in horror, but with the illusion that she has any manners at all.
She of course has very few.
“I don’t like the way it smells.” She decides, and she moves to stand where she is watching his face again instead of the topography of a body that looks as though it must be in constant pain. “The blood, I mean.” She does not tell him why or what it reminds her of, what pain that scent dredges up inside of her. “So,” she says instead, turning from him to walk the path down to the nearest shore, intent on bringing him to soak in the warm waters of the Pampa ocean, “what does it feel like to be inside out?”
She doesn’t pause to ask if he wants to come, or explain where it is she intends to take him - and maybe it is part defense mechanism. Creating this moment where he has the choice to follow, or to excuse himself. But she isn’t sure if it’s for her sake or for his, can’t possibly explain to this stranger that she is cursed. That eventually everyone in her life finds suffering.
REVELRIE
it feels like falling, it feels like rain,
like losing my balance again and again