[mature] things we never thought we could be, adna

[bethlehem]

sometimes i wonder, will god ever forgive us for what we've done to each other? B E T H L E H E M then i look around and realize, god left this place a long time ago He listens. For all intents and purposes, he hears what she is saying. But to say he understands would be a stretch. He has undoubtedly traversed this cursed place in its entirety. He has touched every forsaken corner of this land. But the names and the faces and the places and the stories he has encountered along the way have never stuck. They have never been worth remembering. So little is these days, he finds. He has seen so many fantastical, unimaginable things and they have been left by the wayside. It is not that he is difficult to impress – though he has been accused of it – it is merely that he has very little interest in the world at large, even less interest in the people in it. She is the daughter of royals and he supposes that means something. He supposes there must have been some level of expectation bred into her, held over her head – either by herself or by her parents. But he just goes on watching her, his head – that plain, ordinary thing, the color of mud with broad strip of white cut down the center – still tilted at that funny angle. He registers the tears that gather in her eyes but he says nothing. Her chest heaves with her breathing and he grits his teeth. He has no words of wisdom to offer, though he is undoubtedly older and more experienced in disappointment. He has been a disappointment since the day he was born and he wonders if that’s better or worse. Is it better to know that your child will never amount to anything or to harbor the belief that they will someday move mountains only to one day find that they don’t have it in them after all? Does it matter? “You’re not mean,” he says after a pulsing beat of silence. His expression does not change. “At least, not as mean as you think you are.”