she’s got jumper cable lips
she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death
While fear is a drastic emotion, love is another.
And while Wishbone does not feel fear so frequently, love is an entirely different story.
That’s an interesting fact to consider, especially when her life has not been because of romantic love. Although her parents love each other, it is not with tender touches to soft places or sweet words murmured under moonlight. Wound and Warrick might exchange private glances and whisper secretive words, but her father’s heart ultimately belongs to a cloud-splashed mare with her eyes in the future. Tangerine’s presence in her parents’ relationship has always been prevalent and Wishbone grew up knowing the faces of her half-siblings.
While Wound and Warrick’s hearts might long for only one other heart to nestle against, Wishbone’s is destined for more.
She hadn’t realized she’d touched a tender nerve with her question, but the mahogany queen doesn’t regret it. In fact, her mouth curls into an amused expression at the way Virgo grows warm under the topic. Wishbone again wonders at the layers to this barbed mare; for this moment, she marvels at her ability to be equal parts tender and hard-shelled. “That sounds like a hell’uva good time to me.” Although her voice is dipped in the same colors that paint against her amused lips, there’s a strong amount of honesty to Wishbone’s words.
Virgo is shifting the conversation back toward her again — yet still embellished with the questions of love — and a true laugh winds out of the mahogany’s throat. Although it might seem a simple question to answer, love is never simple. Wishbone mirrors her friend’s earlier statement, “It’s a bit complicated, really.” Faces and their assorted memories dance through her mind and she isn’t regretful to see how they are numerous like the nighttime stars.
Wolfbane, with his gold-blue face and deeply-etched memories.
Khaedrik, with his haunted eyes and deadly, mysterious shadow-creatures.
Ivar, with his vibrant mouth and dark, invigorating gaze.
There’s potential for more — for some feminine names and feminine memories — yet none of the individuals who draw themselves to her (and she, to them) are what she would call a consort. Such a word brings about thoughts of politics and, heaven forbid, children; those are thoughts that fill her with both a certain degree of dread and the overwhelming desire to laugh wildly into the wind. “I’m more of a free spirit,” Wishbone finally admits. Where Virgo’s eyes search the horizon, the mahogany’s eyes seek her gray face.
“I’ve done pretty well avoiding the restrictions of a marriage so far.”
wishbone
@[Virgo] (;