say you’ll remember me
The gooey sound of flesh being ripped is what fills the duo’s hanging silence. Scavengers diverge themselves in the wake of death, indulging in copious mounds of organs and blood. Birds that sit heavily on the skull of the dead begin to sink with the softening skin, a beautiful merigold shimmer being tainted with burgundy red liquid and unidentifiable sources.
She feels him appreciate her physically, and part of her is disappointed. Exemplary is comparable to the intelligent science wiz in high school that was more nutorious for her robust body than her mental capacity. She is most definitely the beautiful reader that hides herself in the cushion of her bed, ignoring numerous calls from those who only see B&B. A thick feeling of frustration waves over her, as if she almost expected more from him.
The body of someone he most likely new was still shredding in the background—rather, foreground—and he is enticed by her onyx spread.
Their surrounding is almost as dead as the woman ahead. Trees are just now beginning to rebirth their leaf-like children, and flowers only now blossom. Had she known he had compared her to a flower, she would have up and left. In her eyes, she is the trunk of a tree. Dark, unappreciated and somewhat overlooked. Yet, the trunk is the source of nutrition and life.
The trunk is the reason the leaves can grow.
Exemplary has always been in some aspect, the support. It can be viewed as a fault or a beneficial trait. She has a knack for always seeing the best in those around her, for always finding the beauty in God’s ugliest creations. Her heart is open for anything, sometimes too much but never too little. It is why she forgives her parent’s for never wanting her, why she forgives the Desert’s for not suiting her, and why she forgives this man—here, now—for watching the horrendous scene of a carcass be mauled to nonexistence.
She doesn’t see the monster behind the curtain, but rather the character he must be when the curtain has fallen.
His voice is smooth like butter and cooled from practice. Unlike her warm and light tone, he adds depth and weight. His tone sends a slight chill so faint he would have to be staring to notice, a chill that tickles the bridge of her wither and the end of her spine. A chill that is instantly replaced by the warmth of her own curiosity.
“Pollock.” She mimics as a statement rather than question. Her tone lifts into the air like an empty ballad, with soft harmonies and a pretty chorus.
Hazel eyes for a second—and perhaps for the first time during this entire meet— flicker to him. A dainty wing looking damaged and torn, goat horns sprouting from his sandcastle gold head. He, for a moment, looked incredibly daring.
And while perhaps she should be frightened, Exemplary just isn’t the type to run.
“Exemplary,” her name is long and foolish sounding. It is a name she wishes she didn’t have to announce profusely however she also isn’t a liar, and therefore cannot just up and change the title altogether. Instead, she just says it once and leaves it there.
If he forgets, then he forgets.
She will just be “that mare” in his eyes if it comes to.
Exemplary
I will be yours, and only yours, until the day I fade to black