02-23-2017, 05:05 PM
Foolish looks an awful lot like trust. He says, a quiet glint in his eye to match the curve at the corner of his mouth. For a long moment she says nothing – but she does not have to say anything because her face is open and clear and it is painfully easy to watch the direction in which her thoughts travel. Trust was something that came easily to Luster, something she gave as willingly as she gave those uncertain smiles that often uncurled across pale, tremulous lips. It was something she felt unfurling in her chest even now, even in the deep and dark with this quiet stranger and a wound that still occasionally wept silent red tears down the blue of that delicate neck. At his explanation though, she traps it and tempers it, and when her dark eyes lift to his face they are uncertain and bruised and filled with a shadow that does not suit her.
“I think,” and she pauses, testing the weight of words that feel oddly heavy, oddly embarrassed, “I think you might want to reserve your guesses for when you know me a little better.” But these words are not sharp, not pointed, not thrown at him in offense. Instead they are a warning, gentle and uncertain. I am foolish. She thinks, though her mouth is unmoving, her lips soft and slack and drenched in shadow. Please don’t be disappointed when you realize it. Her eyes slip from his face because suddenly hiding feels easier, because this is the first time anyone has ever expected more from her than she can be, than she is, and she does not like how it feels.
But his words pull her back again, back to that dark face with deep eyes that resist her each time she tries to fall into them. Perhaps you are just kind. It feels like an out but she does not know how to take it. Is she kind? It didn’t feel like kindness when she lied to her parents. But when she finally does answer him, it is not what she intended. “Maybe it is foolish to be kind.” Her voice is soft and sad and pink, the color of the shame, of the blush that warms her skin.
Then his mouth finds her cheek and all that sad shatters with the sharp inhalation of startled breath, a soft oh that escapes her lips unbidden. Her eyes fall against his face again, against his eyes to test their resilience, and she wonders if he felt the sudden heat of a blush burning beneath the blue. Luster. He says, and she shivers a little at the uncertain goosebumps that appear beneath the blue, wonders why her name sounds different from his lips, in his voice. Then, inching closer despite the way her feet remain planted and solid beneath her, “It’s enough, of course.” A promise, an apology, maybe even a blend of both.
But then she looks to his face again, tries to climb inside those eyes where it seems so safe and quiet. “Can I trust you?” These words quiver and quaver before they fall from her lips, vulnerable despite the way she wants to be brave. But her neck hurts, and her heart hurts and she knows that she is perched at the edge of the world, ready to lose her balance and fall forever into the dark. “Please?” Softer now, uncertain, with luminous brown eyes that touch every inch of the dark face that watches her. “I could use a friend, tonight.” She inches closer, the quiet shuffle of hesitant hooves against a soft forest floor. Then, because she cannot help herself, because she wants to see that smile appear again against the dark curve of his mouth, “I’ll let you call me foolish, if it helps.” And she is smiling now, soft and subtle, uncertain as she noses close to his chest in wordless question.
Please?
“I think,” and she pauses, testing the weight of words that feel oddly heavy, oddly embarrassed, “I think you might want to reserve your guesses for when you know me a little better.” But these words are not sharp, not pointed, not thrown at him in offense. Instead they are a warning, gentle and uncertain. I am foolish. She thinks, though her mouth is unmoving, her lips soft and slack and drenched in shadow. Please don’t be disappointed when you realize it. Her eyes slip from his face because suddenly hiding feels easier, because this is the first time anyone has ever expected more from her than she can be, than she is, and she does not like how it feels.
But his words pull her back again, back to that dark face with deep eyes that resist her each time she tries to fall into them. Perhaps you are just kind. It feels like an out but she does not know how to take it. Is she kind? It didn’t feel like kindness when she lied to her parents. But when she finally does answer him, it is not what she intended. “Maybe it is foolish to be kind.” Her voice is soft and sad and pink, the color of the shame, of the blush that warms her skin.
Then his mouth finds her cheek and all that sad shatters with the sharp inhalation of startled breath, a soft oh that escapes her lips unbidden. Her eyes fall against his face again, against his eyes to test their resilience, and she wonders if he felt the sudden heat of a blush burning beneath the blue. Luster. He says, and she shivers a little at the uncertain goosebumps that appear beneath the blue, wonders why her name sounds different from his lips, in his voice. Then, inching closer despite the way her feet remain planted and solid beneath her, “It’s enough, of course.” A promise, an apology, maybe even a blend of both.
But then she looks to his face again, tries to climb inside those eyes where it seems so safe and quiet. “Can I trust you?” These words quiver and quaver before they fall from her lips, vulnerable despite the way she wants to be brave. But her neck hurts, and her heart hurts and she knows that she is perched at the edge of the world, ready to lose her balance and fall forever into the dark. “Please?” Softer now, uncertain, with luminous brown eyes that touch every inch of the dark face that watches her. “I could use a friend, tonight.” She inches closer, the quiet shuffle of hesitant hooves against a soft forest floor. Then, because she cannot help herself, because she wants to see that smile appear again against the dark curve of his mouth, “I’ll let you call me foolish, if it helps.” And she is smiling now, soft and subtle, uncertain as she noses close to his chest in wordless question.
Please?