03-07-2018, 11:33 PM
haze like a fever
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
She is not on a path to self-discovery. Wishbone has a strong sense of reliance in herself, something as deeply rooted as the oldest of Beqanna’s forests. She doesn’t ever turn inward to herself (to any turmoil she might face, to wonderings about why her emotions are how they are, to look back at her past and see how it has shaped her) for the simple reason that she does not feel the need to. The wild girl would much rather spend her time exploring the unknown depths of Beqanna — and maybe Beyond, if she discovers every inch of this home.
Perhaps that is why her heart is starshine and delirious adventure.
That stardust, forested-wilderness of a heart warms at the appreciation in his voice. She enjoys the sound of her name as well (the “shh” of the beginning like a wind through her ears followed by the soft severity of the end) and it makes her happy to know her newfound friend feels the same. If they could be called such things; little does she know of the violence lingering in the depths of his golden chest or the snapping of teeth barely maintained by whatever childlike innocence is left of his mind.
“I’m glad you like it, Khaedrik.” She likes the sound of his name on her lips as well. Wishbone takes a few steps forward, encouraged by the sudden warmth he shows. She doesn’t know of the effect her laughter has over the darkness that preys on him. His answer causes her to halt in her tracks and think it over. The expression of thought flutters across her face as strongly as a thundercloud rolling through a bright blue summer sky.
Wishbone hadn’t ever thought of the need to do something with herself. She’s only ever been. Perhaps that is her immaturity compared to Khaedrik — she has spent her childhood simply being a child. One day duty might call for her (a day that is approaching sooner than she might have expected), but for now she has no need to do something, not when all she needs to do is be herself. “Why do you need to do something?” She’s truly curious, amber eyes searching his face amid the contrast of moon-glow and shadow-dark.
Perhaps that is why her heart is starshine and delirious adventure.
That stardust, forested-wilderness of a heart warms at the appreciation in his voice. She enjoys the sound of her name as well (the “shh” of the beginning like a wind through her ears followed by the soft severity of the end) and it makes her happy to know her newfound friend feels the same. If they could be called such things; little does she know of the violence lingering in the depths of his golden chest or the snapping of teeth barely maintained by whatever childlike innocence is left of his mind.
“I’m glad you like it, Khaedrik.” She likes the sound of his name on her lips as well. Wishbone takes a few steps forward, encouraged by the sudden warmth he shows. She doesn’t know of the effect her laughter has over the darkness that preys on him. His answer causes her to halt in her tracks and think it over. The expression of thought flutters across her face as strongly as a thundercloud rolling through a bright blue summer sky.
Wishbone hadn’t ever thought of the need to do something with herself. She’s only ever been. Perhaps that is her immaturity compared to Khaedrik — she has spent her childhood simply being a child. One day duty might call for her (a day that is approaching sooner than she might have expected), but for now she has no need to do something, not when all she needs to do is be herself. “Why do you need to do something?” She’s truly curious, amber eyes searching his face amid the contrast of moon-glow and shadow-dark.
@[Khaedrik]