07-28-2024, 11:03 PM
you drew stars around my scars but now i’m bleeding
Betty is still so terribly naive that she does not notice the way he watches her. Her experience with the world, and especially men, is nearly nonexistent. She does not know how badly most men want — and that they all suffer from the same desires, whether they are kind men or cruel men, or falling in the gray between. They are drawn to pretty things like a moth to the flame, and she is here flashing her wings like a beacon to draw him in, without even meaning to. It is why she does not immediately pick up on his flattery, not until he looks at her while commenting on beautiful things to be found down here.
She can feel the heat rising to her silver cheeks and for a moment her gaze drops as she gathers herself, a small smile on her lips. When she looks up the shyness is still there, but she manages to keep it from her voice when she answers him, “Well, I would still love to see Stratos one day. Perhaps you could take me there.” The thought of being in the sky with someone so beautifully crafted of the sky itself felt like something out of a dream; one that she isn’t entirely sure she is fit to be a part of, but that does not stop her from dreaming it.
But she is getting ahead of herself, she realizes. Nothing even says that he would want to take her to Stratos, and besides, the notion itself felt strangely intimate, as if she were inviting herself into his life. In an attempt to lessen the idea that she is demanding he show her this other part of his life, she offers, “and come summer I can show you my favorite part of the meadow, when the wildflowers are in bloom.”
She can feel the heat rising to her silver cheeks and for a moment her gaze drops as she gathers herself, a small smile on her lips. When she looks up the shyness is still there, but she manages to keep it from her voice when she answers him, “Well, I would still love to see Stratos one day. Perhaps you could take me there.” The thought of being in the sky with someone so beautifully crafted of the sky itself felt like something out of a dream; one that she isn’t entirely sure she is fit to be a part of, but that does not stop her from dreaming it.
But she is getting ahead of herself, she realizes. Nothing even says that he would want to take her to Stratos, and besides, the notion itself felt strangely intimate, as if she were inviting herself into his life. In an attempt to lessen the idea that she is demanding he show her this other part of his life, she offers, “and come summer I can show you my favorite part of the meadow, when the wildflowers are in bloom.”
Betty
@Maeglin