12-05-2017, 03:55 PM
Eione
I can save you, I can take you away from here
He is blinding emotion, raw and vulnerable – so much so that she is nearly made breathless by it, her heavy lashes fluttering shut over the scarlet depth of her irises as she surrenders as her mind is weighted with the burden of his sentiment. There is mirth, amusement, joy – but there is also roiling uncertainty, festering beneath, and there is regret and anger and sorrow. Each word is accompanied by a thought, piling one on top of the other until it is little more than a blur of his subconscious. She does not pry further – she does not reach deeper into his mind, to see the depth of his despair, nor to see the source of his anger, of the tension coiled in his belly.
When her lashes drift upward to reveal her gaze again, her pupils are dilated, quivering for a moment before lessening to a natural state. Her breath is caught in her throat, though she can feel his drift across her cheek once more, and she is aching to know more. Aching in a way she never knew that she could. She had long since learned to separate herself from the thoughts of others – her mother had never mastered the ability, and thus she remained in constant turmoil, uneasy and withdrawn from the splendor and wonder of the world.
And yet, with him – she is powerless, lost to the temptation of being able to know why he looked at her just so; why she felt such deep and undeniable attraction to him.
The burden of knowing had dangerous potential. The affliction of knowing the heartache of another, or worse yet, feeling the hot heat of rejection herself, without the words ever being spoken. She had never permitted herself to feel close enough to anyone to subject herself to such anguish. She had felt it enough with her mother and her father, when a love once thought invincible fell to pieces before her, wrought with anger and hurt and betrayal.
A soft huff of laughter moves past her lips when her own father’s name is abruptly spoken from his own. Where her fathers’ eyes were often hardened as a blockade between the tired and distressed soul that lay beneath, her own are like gemstones – watchful, curious, open and seeking. When burning amber meet with crimson, she is lost once again, as captivated as he, marveling at the way her heartbeat seems to jolt and seize within her chest when each lopsided, but charming smile touches the corner of his mouth.
”That does not surprise me,” she muses with a wistful sigh, though she does not say it is because she already knew. ”he has always looked beyond to see what no one else could. If only he could see himself the same way.” Closer and closer, he comes, and she does not turn away. Still and unwavering, her gaze settled and searching his own, she is immobilized by the magnetic pull – unseen, but felt so strongly, and she cannot resist the enticement in knowing he can feel it too. Her smile does falter when she ascertains that he can – had she ever known such an allure as she felt, lost his eyes?
(his thoughts are heavy, torn between closing the diminutive distance still keeping them apart, and wondering what her father might think, should he know the growing tension between he and his daughter?)
”He wouldn’t care,” she murmurs to him as a way of answering what else can you see, demure but with the same glint of mischief hidden within.
”I can see much. I can see you are young, but wise,” her gaze traverses the sharpened edge of his jaw then, to the bronze tresses complimenting the sheer gleam of gold tucked within each individual scale covering his body. ”I can see that you are .. kind,” (that word, it envelopes him like a gilded aura she cannot help but to read). ”and you are saddened by starlight, and fond of citrus.”
A play on word, perhaps –
But she would not, she would not delve deeper.
Not if he did not want her to.
”I can read thoughts,” she says finally, as the air is suddenly no longer still, while an unruly gust of air entangles itself in the unkempt tresses draped over her eyes once again. ”I can read minds, and sometimes, memories – and I can see that you feel the same strong attraction that I do.”
When her lashes drift upward to reveal her gaze again, her pupils are dilated, quivering for a moment before lessening to a natural state. Her breath is caught in her throat, though she can feel his drift across her cheek once more, and she is aching to know more. Aching in a way she never knew that she could. She had long since learned to separate herself from the thoughts of others – her mother had never mastered the ability, and thus she remained in constant turmoil, uneasy and withdrawn from the splendor and wonder of the world.
And yet, with him – she is powerless, lost to the temptation of being able to know why he looked at her just so; why she felt such deep and undeniable attraction to him.
The burden of knowing had dangerous potential. The affliction of knowing the heartache of another, or worse yet, feeling the hot heat of rejection herself, without the words ever being spoken. She had never permitted herself to feel close enough to anyone to subject herself to such anguish. She had felt it enough with her mother and her father, when a love once thought invincible fell to pieces before her, wrought with anger and hurt and betrayal.
A soft huff of laughter moves past her lips when her own father’s name is abruptly spoken from his own. Where her fathers’ eyes were often hardened as a blockade between the tired and distressed soul that lay beneath, her own are like gemstones – watchful, curious, open and seeking. When burning amber meet with crimson, she is lost once again, as captivated as he, marveling at the way her heartbeat seems to jolt and seize within her chest when each lopsided, but charming smile touches the corner of his mouth.
”That does not surprise me,” she muses with a wistful sigh, though she does not say it is because she already knew. ”he has always looked beyond to see what no one else could. If only he could see himself the same way.” Closer and closer, he comes, and she does not turn away. Still and unwavering, her gaze settled and searching his own, she is immobilized by the magnetic pull – unseen, but felt so strongly, and she cannot resist the enticement in knowing he can feel it too. Her smile does falter when she ascertains that he can – had she ever known such an allure as she felt, lost his eyes?
(his thoughts are heavy, torn between closing the diminutive distance still keeping them apart, and wondering what her father might think, should he know the growing tension between he and his daughter?)
”He wouldn’t care,” she murmurs to him as a way of answering what else can you see, demure but with the same glint of mischief hidden within.
”I can see much. I can see you are young, but wise,” her gaze traverses the sharpened edge of his jaw then, to the bronze tresses complimenting the sheer gleam of gold tucked within each individual scale covering his body. ”I can see that you are .. kind,” (that word, it envelopes him like a gilded aura she cannot help but to read). ”and you are saddened by starlight, and fond of citrus.”
A play on word, perhaps –
But she would not, she would not delve deeper.
Not if he did not want her to.
”I can read thoughts,” she says finally, as the air is suddenly no longer still, while an unruly gust of air entangles itself in the unkempt tresses draped over her eyes once again. ”I can read minds, and sometimes, memories – and I can see that you feel the same strong attraction that I do.”
@[Amet]