05-27-2024, 02:05 PM
— and how long must I stay, will I lay by your side
just to say that I’m yours and you’ll never be mine;
just to say that I’m yours and you’ll never be mine;
She notices the way his facial expression changes just slightly at her suggestion that he appears meant for the water, and she tilts her head at what he says. “What made you stay away from it?” She hopes it isn’t too bold of a question. It only occurs to her after she has said it that perhaps something happened that he wouldn’t want to speak about. She is not sure what it’s like, being able to live half in water and half on land, but she remembers, belatedly, Baltia, and the stories of their war against the skies. She has never met a Baltian, or even a half-Baltian; she does not know how to recognize their traits or what differentiates them from the usual kelpies and other water creatures that have always roamed Beqanna’s waters.
She doesn’t apologize for asking, though. The question had already been asked, and he could choose to answer if he wanted.
When he compliments her name, she smiles, a soft flush of shyness flooding her cheeks. She had never grown accustomed to compliments, even though she received them frequently. Most that she met were intrigued by her — it was difficult not to be, with the smooth, red glass that her body was made of, beautiful and peculiar all at once. “Thank you. I suppose it’s a rather fitting name, too.” Glass, is surely what he will think of when she says that. The word in her name, and what she is made of. But she is thinking, too, of her glass heart, and how long it can go before it weakens and breaks — not an hourglass exactly, but running out of time all the same.
“No, it’s actually from my father, Thomas. Supposedly the glass started with his family, and I don’t think there are many made of glass that I would not be related to. All my sisters are made of glass or porcelain, too. Only my brother did not inherit it.” She gives a small laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not sure if he considers himself lucky or if it makes him feel like an outcast, though.”
She doesn’t apologize for asking, though. The question had already been asked, and he could choose to answer if he wanted.
When he compliments her name, she smiles, a soft flush of shyness flooding her cheeks. She had never grown accustomed to compliments, even though she received them frequently. Most that she met were intrigued by her — it was difficult not to be, with the smooth, red glass that her body was made of, beautiful and peculiar all at once. “Thank you. I suppose it’s a rather fitting name, too.” Glass, is surely what he will think of when she says that. The word in her name, and what she is made of. But she is thinking, too, of her glass heart, and how long it can go before it weakens and breaks — not an hourglass exactly, but running out of time all the same.
“No, it’s actually from my father, Thomas. Supposedly the glass started with his family, and I don’t think there are many made of glass that I would not be related to. All my sisters are made of glass or porcelain, too. Only my brother did not inherit it.” She gives a small laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not sure if he considers himself lucky or if it makes him feel like an outcast, though.”
hourglass