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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [private]  I'll be watching from the center of the hollow moon; Aislyn
    #9

    You twist, I turn, who's the first to burn?

    You sit and stay, I don't obey.

    If she is awkward and stumbling in her attempts to console him, he does not know. To his inexperienced and undeniably naive gaze, there is nothing that could have been more right in that moment. Nothing that could have touched him quite like the quiet steel of her resolve. He is neither sweet nor soft despite the touch of innocence that remains when he peers at matters of the soul, nor is it likely he could understand it if offered to him. But the sincerity and implacability of her tone? Those he knows well.

    Even if he does not quite wish to believe it.

    Yet he feels the tug of it all the same, and he cannot help the brief, melancholic smile that pulls at his lips. “I’m not certain I even know myself,” he replies after a thoughtful moment, aqua eyes searching the bright pink of hers. In that breathless, eternal heartbeat of time, the smallest piece of who he’d once tried to be returns, bringing a genuine, if fleeting, smile with it. “Perhaps you will have to stay here and remind me so I cannot forget.”

    Words are not necessary then, and he doesn’t notice that she cannot seem to find them. He has never been a great wordsmith, and it’s impossible to miss what one has never known. But everything she wants to tell him is right there in the impossible depth of her gaze, spoken in the soft lines of her body.

    In nearly equal measure, he too cannot conjure the words to express what he feels. If such words even exist, he doesn’t know them. Instead he can only hope she can find them in the perpetual hopefulness of his expression, or read them between the lines of the wholly inadequate words that tumble from his lips.

    “Do you know,” he begins, unable to keep the musing question from spilling forth. “I never knew what caring meant until I met you?” There is a wryness in his open expression, one that borders on embarrassment. “I thought I did because I didn’t wish to be what I was born to be, but you proved me so very wrong.”
    Voracious


    @Aislyn
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: I'll be watching from the center of the hollow moon; Aislyn - by Voracious - 01-10-2022, 11:20 AM



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