08-18-2019, 02:45 PM
There is some shred of self-preservation left in him.
Just enough that, when she lunges at him, the muscles pull taut beneath the surface of his skin.
Just enough that, for the breath of a second, there is a tremble.
And then nothing at all.
He holds his breath without meaning to. He thinks that this will be something worth remembering. He knows that she will not kill him, that she cares too much, that she will not let this be what carries her through the rest of her life.
She is right. He does not know her name but he thinks he must know her heart. The ugliest parts of it, even. The way she had loved a man who could not be hers. But the beautiful parts, too, how she refused to leave her children.
He knows nothing. He knows nothing beyond the shape of his name and the so many thousand of miles he has walked. He knows nothing beyond the aching in his jaw. Right now, he knows nothing but the perfect stillness that follows. The absolute stillness in her hesitation. He can feel his own pulse, wonders if she feels it, too. Steady, like him.
And then she lays her weary head against his shoulder and he does not move out of her reach. Instead, he turns his that great head around to press a chaste kiss against her rocky spine. He rests his mouth there a moment. “You have to know that you’re worthless from the moment you‘re born to be like me,” he murmurs into her scaled skin, his confession.
Just enough that, when she lunges at him, the muscles pull taut beneath the surface of his skin.
Just enough that, for the breath of a second, there is a tremble.
And then nothing at all.
He holds his breath without meaning to. He thinks that this will be something worth remembering. He knows that she will not kill him, that she cares too much, that she will not let this be what carries her through the rest of her life.
She is right. He does not know her name but he thinks he must know her heart. The ugliest parts of it, even. The way she had loved a man who could not be hers. But the beautiful parts, too, how she refused to leave her children.
He knows nothing. He knows nothing beyond the shape of his name and the so many thousand of miles he has walked. He knows nothing beyond the aching in his jaw. Right now, he knows nothing but the perfect stillness that follows. The absolute stillness in her hesitation. He can feel his own pulse, wonders if she feels it, too. Steady, like him.
And then she lays her weary head against his shoulder and he does not move out of her reach. Instead, he turns his that great head around to press a chaste kiss against her rocky spine. He rests his mouth there a moment. “You have to know that you’re worthless from the moment you‘re born to be like me,” he murmurs into her scaled skin, his confession.