don't ruin this for me
She thinks of her father, her sister, her mother.
Certainly they are the only ones who would qualify as someone who might miss her. But her father has steeled himself against the leaving by now. She can see it in his face. And Hourglass, her darling sister, it has been months since Clementia last saw her. And her mother? She understands that her mother never belonged to them.
She thinks of Pollen, too. And she allows herself to entertain some foolish, fanciful whim that perhaps Pollen would miss her. Still, she smiles that dreamy smile and shakes her fine glass head. Just barely. “Not yet,” she murmurs, bell-song soft, “they’ll be alright without me for a little while longer.”
She wonders what would happen if she never went home to the corner of the meadow where she’d lived with her father, her sister, their mother. And, for a time, a boy who had not belonged to their father despite how fiercely the glass stallion had pretended otherwise. A boy who belonged only to their mother and perhaps to the sister’s, too. Would they look for her? Would her father worry or merely accept the fact that he had been left again?
It makes her heart ache to think it and she focuses on his second question instead. To save herself the trouble of mourning something hypothetical. There, the same dreamy smile when he reaches for her, when he touches her cool cheek and she savors the warmth of his mouth. And she laughs like porcelain.
“You won’t,” she tells him. Certain. Her voice does not waver but she smiles all the same. She is a dreamy thing, a whimsical girl, but not even she is foolish enough to believe that anyone should ever be so desperate for her company. Least of all him.
@[Molech]