08-28-2017, 07:04 PM
the incense that sun on prairie offers to sky
No, their meeting had not gone forgotten.
Instead, small bold Spark takes a step forward and lifts her whiskery nose towards his scarred eye socket. She could almost touch the three scars and the emptiness where an eye should be but only her breath blowing out of her nostrils as she breathes is all that he’ll be able to feel. “Did he… did he do this to you?” Her heart flip-flops inside her, like a slippery salmon trying to swim upriver against a rushing current that pushes it back. Spark is both sickened and concerned, alarmed almost, at the compassion that bubbles up in her from a place long thought dead, squashed out like a bright star.
Spark forgot very little in fact, and could not forget the haunted frozen look of him that warred so much with the bold hot look of her, even if she was little and as lost as him (not that she’d admit it, but she has been - still is, if she admits it to herself even though Giver had come back, not necessarily to her but he’s back all the same).
When he turns to look at her, it is with the empty eye socket first that makes her suck in a breath. Not because she is frightened of it, but because she is curious by the three large scars - no, claw marks, and she is curious as to what manner of beast did that to him until the gold-flecked sienna of his good eye meets her own mismatched gaze of black eye left and right eye red. He does not look nearly as unkind and haunted as he first had when they initially met but she can see the frown that tugs at his lips, has she bothered him? Perhaps she had been too bold after the meeting as she sought him out but she makes no apology for it.
She is not prepared for his blunt reply or the name that he drops like a hot spatter of magma at her feet. It seems rife with bitterness and anger, things that she knows all too well of these days. But she can feel her black-bonneted head start to shake in a resolute no before her mouth even gives it shape. “No, I don’t know this Carnage you speak of.” This is a faint thread of pity in her voice because she knows this answer will disappoint him. Does he still care to even know the name of the one that manifested all this hurt in her? A name that still makes her heart lift and soar with pure love and adoration despite how heavy it sits in her until she peels her skin off and dresses in nothing but clean hot flame?
Instead, small bold Spark takes a step forward and lifts her whiskery nose towards his scarred eye socket. She could almost touch the three scars and the emptiness where an eye should be but only her breath blowing out of her nostrils as she breathes is all that he’ll be able to feel. “Did he… did he do this to you?” Her heart flip-flops inside her, like a slippery salmon trying to swim upriver against a rushing current that pushes it back. Spark is both sickened and concerned, alarmed almost, at the compassion that bubbles up in her from a place long thought dead, squashed out like a bright star.
Spark