this reckless wandering love was never ours; risk

[sochi]

sochi

His laugh sparks one of her own and it is a bitter, vicious thing. Rough and raspy on her tongue as she lets it roll like thunder through her chest. “Stray is accurate enough,” she says, unwilling now to give him her name simply because he wants it—simply because he asks. She does not believe that a name has any great weight to it. She does not believe that it gives command over her—does not give them power.

And yet—

She holds onto it, swallows it down, meets his gaze as he describes death and shrugs in response. He was right, she knows. Death was only what you made of it. Permanent. Temporary. Something to be feared or something to be chased. She knows better than most, even as the feel of need beats in her throat. The need for the dark of it and the endless depths of it. The need to lose herself in the chase of death.

His question catches her off guard though and it shows on her face. A brief moment of surprise and then something like pain that is quickly washed away in blank neutrality. “I have never been known for being particularly lovable,” she finally manages and there is a part of her—weak and pathetic—that wonders if that is what drove Castile to another. Was she kinder? Softer? Was she someone more lovable than she?

She hates the part of her that wonders and growls before she can stop it.

“I don’t care if I am,” she says between gritted teeth, lifting her chin, and even she is not certain whether she is lying or not. Does she care? Does she wish she could make herself something that she is not?

But then, suddenly, she feels the same cold, heavy weight settle in her chest and she knows. Knows that she cannot be anything but herself and just like she abandoned hope of apologizing for her predatory nature so will she abandon hope of apologizing for this. If she was unlovable, so be it. She would be.

well, I can try to get you closer but I know you’d break your neck just to see the stars
and if we don’t dare to hold it then this reckless wandering love was never ours