01-18-2021, 06:30 PM
She had thought she was alone until his dark silhouette separated from the trees in the near-distance. It makes her nervous to watch him move closer, to watch him halve the distance between them and then halve it again - and it isn’t that his strides seem awkward and ungainly, in fact she does not even notice that, it’s that he exists here with her at all when she was trying so hard to be lonely. When she was focused so intently on how completely unwanted she is.
Self pity is funny that way, isn’t it?
Her face is a mask of dark and distrust, of a wary distance she tries so hard to keep between herself and everyone else if only because it is easier to pretend rejection is her choice than it is to realize she simply isn’t good enough. It is why she draws the dark around her like this, why she hides inside it as though it puts the distance of space, of entire galaxies, between her and everyone else.
Distance is safe when it is her own choice.
Distance is corrosive when it is not.
The tumult of her soul tells her to retreat when he comes to a stop before her, those dark eyes locked on her in a way she does not understand. His intensity gentles her though, and she forgets to be afraid of the closeness of this encounter because the way he stares makes her feel oddly seen. She wonders if she should say something, if he is waiting for an introduction or an explanation or something she completely missed the memo on.
But then he speaks, and she can feel unease return like a spider creeping up along the path of her delicate spine. How could he know such a thing when she spends all her time constructing these careful masks to hide behind? She finds she cannot answer him with anything more than a flash of fear that ricochets between those mismatched eyes at being so seen by this strange, dark man. Then his gaze drifts and it seems that the very moment his eyes settle on the curve of her dark wings, a pair of them erupt from his back, too.
She takes a single step back at that, startled by the sudden presence of them. Everything about him is so odd, like he had been made with the specific intent to breach the comfort of every one of her invisible boundaries. Perhaps the oddest part is that she finds she wants to know more about him, that she wants him to stay. She still hasn’t answered him, but her eyes find his again, one black and one gold, and then she slowly lifts her shadow-shrouded wings from her withers. They unfurl like flower petals beneath a springtime sun, angling delicately in a way that seems to ask in the language of wings, do you like them?
Self pity is funny that way, isn’t it?
Her face is a mask of dark and distrust, of a wary distance she tries so hard to keep between herself and everyone else if only because it is easier to pretend rejection is her choice than it is to realize she simply isn’t good enough. It is why she draws the dark around her like this, why she hides inside it as though it puts the distance of space, of entire galaxies, between her and everyone else.
Distance is safe when it is her own choice.
Distance is corrosive when it is not.
The tumult of her soul tells her to retreat when he comes to a stop before her, those dark eyes locked on her in a way she does not understand. His intensity gentles her though, and she forgets to be afraid of the closeness of this encounter because the way he stares makes her feel oddly seen. She wonders if she should say something, if he is waiting for an introduction or an explanation or something she completely missed the memo on.
But then he speaks, and she can feel unease return like a spider creeping up along the path of her delicate spine. How could he know such a thing when she spends all her time constructing these careful masks to hide behind? She finds she cannot answer him with anything more than a flash of fear that ricochets between those mismatched eyes at being so seen by this strange, dark man. Then his gaze drifts and it seems that the very moment his eyes settle on the curve of her dark wings, a pair of them erupt from his back, too.
She takes a single step back at that, startled by the sudden presence of them. Everything about him is so odd, like he had been made with the specific intent to breach the comfort of every one of her invisible boundaries. Perhaps the oddest part is that she finds she wants to know more about him, that she wants him to stay. She still hasn’t answered him, but her eyes find his again, one black and one gold, and then she slowly lifts her shadow-shrouded wings from her withers. They unfurl like flower petals beneath a springtime sun, angling delicately in a way that seems to ask in the language of wings, do you like them?
ILLUMINAE
we can't dream when we're awake,
or fall in love with a heart too strong to break
@[Faulkor]