04-23-2023, 01:24 PM
— neuna
She knows what it means to be brave. She knows exactly what it means that he says, ‘there are worse things’ because she had pretended once not to be absolutely shattered that, when their mother had spirited the Fates away from Pangea, the wolves had been left behind. It had taken her sisters days to notice, but Neuna had gritted her teeth and blinked away tears as she’d watched Eros dissolve into the shadows of Pangea.
She studies him a long moment, even after the metallic taste in her mouth has driven a larger wedge of space between them. (She should have asked, she knows. But how her heart aches to think of how lonely he must be! How she cannot help the impulse to help, to nurture.)
She rolls the bitterness of it across her tongue and then swallows it down, where it singes the soft tissue of her throat and she exhales. He apologizes and her brow furrows, darkens. “Sorry?” she echoes, “for what?”
Still, they wander deeper into the forest. Now neither of them are particularly focused on the search that set them walking in the first place. There is a change in him when he offers his name and she smiles sweetly, fiercely resisting the urge to reach out and touch him again, to coax out another smile. Perhaps she could even draw out a laugh.
Instead, she respects his space, maintains her distance, and hopes that her smile will be enough to get him to smile in return. “Nemeon,” she echoes, liking the shape it makes in her mouth, “my name is Neuna. I’m happy to have met you.”
She studies him a long moment, even after the metallic taste in her mouth has driven a larger wedge of space between them. (She should have asked, she knows. But how her heart aches to think of how lonely he must be! How she cannot help the impulse to help, to nurture.)
She rolls the bitterness of it across her tongue and then swallows it down, where it singes the soft tissue of her throat and she exhales. He apologizes and her brow furrows, darkens. “Sorry?” she echoes, “for what?”
Still, they wander deeper into the forest. Now neither of them are particularly focused on the search that set them walking in the first place. There is a change in him when he offers his name and she smiles sweetly, fiercely resisting the urge to reach out and touch him again, to coax out another smile. Perhaps she could even draw out a laugh.
Instead, she respects his space, maintains her distance, and hopes that her smile will be enough to get him to smile in return. “Nemeon,” she echoes, liking the shape it makes in her mouth, “my name is Neuna. I’m happy to have met you.”
@Nemeon