03-14-2021, 11:48 PM
She looks at him a little closer, studying his smile and his eyes and the angles of his midnight face. It’s hard to tell if the smile is something kind or something mocking, or if it is something altogether different, but she feels sure it is not malicious. Or maybe just certain that someone so beautiful would not be capable of cruelty. Still, there is a certain warmth she cannot find when she searches his eyes, and she finds herself wishing she could still hear the nature of his thoughts. That had disappeared with the day, though.
His question quiets her and for a moment she looks away again, lifting her delicate face to that corona of light hanging in the empty sky. And then, though it takes a moment to decide to open up again, she says, “This dark is different somehow. It isn’t like night, which is full of stars and a forever sky. This dark is killing the sun, and I have the sun inside me.” She still doesn’t look at him, is busy fighting that swell of frustration that still felt so unfamiliar every time it tapped her shoulder and said hello. It feels as strangling as the dark and she wants so badly to be rid of it.
She is not the dark, she will not be poisoned by it.
Yet even now it has her by the throat.
His optimism surprises her, his faith that all will be well. She wonders if she should be more like him, more trusting, but it is hard to have faith in something that’s been allowed to be broken for so long. Still, she isn’t here to crush his hopes with her many fears, so she merely smiles, something small and quiet but entirely genuine, and glances back at his face. “Yeah, every type.” She only hopes he’s right.
His question quiets her and for a moment she looks away again, lifting her delicate face to that corona of light hanging in the empty sky. And then, though it takes a moment to decide to open up again, she says, “This dark is different somehow. It isn’t like night, which is full of stars and a forever sky. This dark is killing the sun, and I have the sun inside me.” She still doesn’t look at him, is busy fighting that swell of frustration that still felt so unfamiliar every time it tapped her shoulder and said hello. It feels as strangling as the dark and she wants so badly to be rid of it.
She is not the dark, she will not be poisoned by it.
Yet even now it has her by the throat.
His optimism surprises her, his faith that all will be well. She wonders if she should be more like him, more trusting, but it is hard to have faith in something that’s been allowed to be broken for so long. Still, she isn’t here to crush his hopes with her many fears, so she merely smiles, something small and quiet but entirely genuine, and glances back at his face. “Yeah, every type.” She only hopes he’s right.
aureline
dear wilderness, be at your best
her armor is thin as the fabric of her dress
@[Laurelin]