09-06-2021, 04:31 PM
with rushing thread of brazen spindles.
How the heart wilts in the cage of her chest. The longer she stands there, the weaker it gets.
(Could it kill her? His hatred? If she stayed long enough, could it drain the life right out of her?)
But she goes on standing there, studying him. And she is young and she does not understand this specific kind of anger, but she was built for life and for love and constructed to dictate both. She drags in a shaky breath when he speaks, barks, snaps. She does not flinch, only watches, and thinks how strange it is that something so full of darkness should be ringed in so much light.
(She still does not understand that the haloes of light that surround every creature in the world is something wrong with her eyes and not anything at all to do with the creature itself.)
She rolls one slim shoulder in response to his question, considering it only briefly before answering. “It’s not only you, it’s everyone.” She does not bother asking if he agrees, because she suspects she already knows what his answer will be.
His accusation catches her off-guard. She blinks once, surprised, and finally turns away from the river to face him. (And still, the heart wilts.)
She tilts her pale head, her brow dark with concentration as she studies him there. He has himself wedged against a tree, as if she is anything worth shying away from. (Perhaps she is.) She does not smile now, just looks at him a long moment with those white eyes before she finally draws in a breath and speaks.
“Why should I want to change you?” she asks, the question genuine. “I only suggested that you deserve peace as much as anyone else and that it’s worth saying so.” She smiles then, just barely.
(Could it kill her? His hatred? If she stayed long enough, could it drain the life right out of her?)
But she goes on standing there, studying him. And she is young and she does not understand this specific kind of anger, but she was built for life and for love and constructed to dictate both. She drags in a shaky breath when he speaks, barks, snaps. She does not flinch, only watches, and thinks how strange it is that something so full of darkness should be ringed in so much light.
(She still does not understand that the haloes of light that surround every creature in the world is something wrong with her eyes and not anything at all to do with the creature itself.)
She rolls one slim shoulder in response to his question, considering it only briefly before answering. “It’s not only you, it’s everyone.” She does not bother asking if he agrees, because she suspects she already knows what his answer will be.
His accusation catches her off-guard. She blinks once, surprised, and finally turns away from the river to face him. (And still, the heart wilts.)
She tilts her pale head, her brow dark with concentration as she studies him there. He has himself wedged against a tree, as if she is anything worth shying away from. (Perhaps she is.) She does not smile now, just looks at him a long moment with those white eyes before she finally draws in a breath and speaks.
“Why should I want to change you?” she asks, the question genuine. “I only suggested that you deserve peace as much as anyone else and that it’s worth saying so.” She smiles then, just barely.
@Ashhal