12-19-2021, 06:00 PM
asterope—
To her, the answer seems obvious.
(Yes, of course, a thousand times yes.)
And there is some inkling itching at the back of her mind that tells her that her father banished her to the darkness in the wood but had not thought to anticipate the kindness of strangers.
(How could he? He who knew nothing of kindness himself.)
Sickle smiles so brightly that it puts a furious ache in Asterope’s bones. Because she will have to leave, her friend, and Asterope will be left alone again. (Is it worse to miss something you’ve never known or spend your whole life oblivious to the magic of friendship? There is a bitterness that lives in her, certainly, a part of her that wishes she could simply dissolve into the madness she feels gnawing at her brainstem.
But the part of her that revels in her friend’s light is so much bigger, so much stronger.)
So the answer is obvious.
Yes, of course, a thousand times yes.
“Of course,” she answers, eyes alight.
Because the pond belongs to her, but it also belongs to Sickle now. Because they are friends, because they were born from the same tragedy, because sharing the depths with someone else means that the darkness does not seem so terribly dark.
What she means to say is: please. Please know the crushing depths so that they will live in someone else, too.
(Yes, of course, a thousand times yes.)
And there is some inkling itching at the back of her mind that tells her that her father banished her to the darkness in the wood but had not thought to anticipate the kindness of strangers.
(How could he? He who knew nothing of kindness himself.)
Sickle smiles so brightly that it puts a furious ache in Asterope’s bones. Because she will have to leave, her friend, and Asterope will be left alone again. (Is it worse to miss something you’ve never known or spend your whole life oblivious to the magic of friendship? There is a bitterness that lives in her, certainly, a part of her that wishes she could simply dissolve into the madness she feels gnawing at her brainstem.
But the part of her that revels in her friend’s light is so much bigger, so much stronger.)
So the answer is obvious.
Yes, of course, a thousand times yes.
“Of course,” she answers, eyes alight.
Because the pond belongs to her, but it also belongs to Sickle now. Because they are friends, because they were born from the same tragedy, because sharing the depths with someone else means that the darkness does not seem so terribly dark.
What she means to say is: please. Please know the crushing depths so that they will live in someone else, too.
—what was it like to feel in love?
@Sickle