04-30-2015, 03:10 PM
He comes to her abruptly. He comes to her when she least expects it. He comes to her raw, tears carved in his cheeks, hyperventilating, loving. He comes to her with the colour red split on his breast, but whether it be blood or love is indiscernible. He comes to her on his knees, begging for her whole heart, begging her for things she is not in control of. He comes to her with plans, but Noori is the reverse of plans. She is wild and untameable and sudden; she is impulsive and stupid and heart-strong. She does things without thought, loves things without thought, gives of herself without thought. She is unpredictable, a hurricane, a burden.
They are both broken, but we do not love Picaso for his drawings of things that are whole.
They walk on in the sunset, Noori in a trance, Trekk entranced. His eyes ravage her body with hands made of silk while she stares into the sun, hoping it will blind her. She walks disjointedly, he walks with a purpose. She thinks of Nihlus, Daemron, Cerva, Eight, and Sinder. He thinks only of her - in the depths of his brown gaze, she is the only thing reflected. In hers, it is the universe. The galaxy rests on her shoulders, but can you blame her? If her heart were tame, then it would not be in three pieces, each one belonging to a different lover.
She does not notice when they stop. He's speaking her name, looking at her; she's staring back, the pitter-patter of her heart soft like when he had first met her. She is a doe, even in her Spring attire. She is the sun-freckled child, redheaded and shy. As she stares into his eyes and sees herself, she thinks that perhaps it is he who so weakens her knees. Perhaps it is he who calms the thunder of her voice when her children have forsaken her. It has always been him, she thinks.
But has she always wanted this?
He's contemplating her, images of questions gone unasked flitting through his heavy gaze. She's contemplating it all, lips slightly parted, eyes wide, breathless. She wants to ask about them, about Sinder and Eight and especially about forgiveness. She wants to ask about why they are here at all, about their creators, about what's stopping them from pulling the trigger. She wants to ask what the point is, she wants to ask why, why he is here, why he cares, why he doesn't let go. She wants to ask if he'd look at her like this for ever, because when she's trapped in his gaze, she's drowning. And when the water fills her lungs, the realities of this world do not worry her. When she chokes and cries and screams, it is because of the pain of herself. When she's breathing in the salt water, she gets to be selfish. She gets to forget everything - especially him.
And then their gaze breaks, and she resurfaces. Inhale, inhale, inhale. The cycle reverses. His lips are on her, his heart is on her. Her eyes slam shut, like a grand piano falling on the concrete. She squeezes them and squeezes them until the tears cannot come, until she has mastered herself and kept her pain inside. He continues kissing her angelic bark until the demons seep out. He rips her apart until her thick blood thins, and she can move freely within herself once more. He destroys her, but maybe we were meant to be broken.
She knows what is coming, and suddenly she pulls away. She does not let him love her - she tears herself away and skitters a few paces to the right. She's breathing heavily, she's sobbing, she's utterly chaotic. She is a hurricane, she is a hurricane, she is a hurricane.
"I love you!" She sobs. "I'm so sorry, so sorry... But I do."
They are both broken, but we do not love Picaso for his drawings of things that are whole.
They walk on in the sunset, Noori in a trance, Trekk entranced. His eyes ravage her body with hands made of silk while she stares into the sun, hoping it will blind her. She walks disjointedly, he walks with a purpose. She thinks of Nihlus, Daemron, Cerva, Eight, and Sinder. He thinks only of her - in the depths of his brown gaze, she is the only thing reflected. In hers, it is the universe. The galaxy rests on her shoulders, but can you blame her? If her heart were tame, then it would not be in three pieces, each one belonging to a different lover.
She does not notice when they stop. He's speaking her name, looking at her; she's staring back, the pitter-patter of her heart soft like when he had first met her. She is a doe, even in her Spring attire. She is the sun-freckled child, redheaded and shy. As she stares into his eyes and sees herself, she thinks that perhaps it is he who so weakens her knees. Perhaps it is he who calms the thunder of her voice when her children have forsaken her. It has always been him, she thinks.
But has she always wanted this?
He's contemplating her, images of questions gone unasked flitting through his heavy gaze. She's contemplating it all, lips slightly parted, eyes wide, breathless. She wants to ask about them, about Sinder and Eight and especially about forgiveness. She wants to ask about why they are here at all, about their creators, about what's stopping them from pulling the trigger. She wants to ask what the point is, she wants to ask why, why he is here, why he cares, why he doesn't let go. She wants to ask if he'd look at her like this for ever, because when she's trapped in his gaze, she's drowning. And when the water fills her lungs, the realities of this world do not worry her. When she chokes and cries and screams, it is because of the pain of herself. When she's breathing in the salt water, she gets to be selfish. She gets to forget everything - especially him.
And then their gaze breaks, and she resurfaces. Inhale, inhale, inhale. The cycle reverses. His lips are on her, his heart is on her. Her eyes slam shut, like a grand piano falling on the concrete. She squeezes them and squeezes them until the tears cannot come, until she has mastered herself and kept her pain inside. He continues kissing her angelic bark until the demons seep out. He rips her apart until her thick blood thins, and she can move freely within herself once more. He destroys her, but maybe we were meant to be broken.
She knows what is coming, and suddenly she pulls away. She does not let him love her - she tears herself away and skitters a few paces to the right. She's breathing heavily, she's sobbing, she's utterly chaotic. She is a hurricane, she is a hurricane, she is a hurricane.
"I love you!" She sobs. "I'm so sorry, so sorry... But I do."