what have I done, with my heart on the floor,
I must be out of my mind to come back begging for more --
She does not really notice the changes in Beqanna anymore. She is a selfish creature lost in her own world, immersed in her own romances and tribulations, and willfully ignorant to the tides the rest of the land must bend to. Her world did not seem to share the same orbit as the rest. She has adapted to this new Beqanna but only marginally so; there wasn't much need when the sun and the moon and the stars of her world were all from her past.
He is apart of her orbit, one of those stars that she only passes every now and then but is drawn to whenever he does.
She is different every time that they cross paths, and this time is much the same. Last time she had been porcelain and lovely in her plain way, with striking, newly-granted sable-colored eyes. And now, she is radiant and glowing, with gold-touched wings and a halo brimming with light above her head, illuminating the two glittering diamonds in the hollows of her sockets.
“Eight,” she recognizes his magic, the gravitational pull of it and easily distinguishes it from all the other magicians she has encountered. She says his name with an easy smile, unafraid as she so stupidly often is, drawing close to him as a moth might to the flame. “You're still here,” she says, a statement and not a question, but the curiosity is still there. He had never struck her as the type to linger just for the sake of it, and she wonders what, if anything, has anchored him here.
I must be out of my mind to come back begging for more --
She does not really notice the changes in Beqanna anymore. She is a selfish creature lost in her own world, immersed in her own romances and tribulations, and willfully ignorant to the tides the rest of the land must bend to. Her world did not seem to share the same orbit as the rest. She has adapted to this new Beqanna but only marginally so; there wasn't much need when the sun and the moon and the stars of her world were all from her past.
He is apart of her orbit, one of those stars that she only passes every now and then but is drawn to whenever he does.
She is different every time that they cross paths, and this time is much the same. Last time she had been porcelain and lovely in her plain way, with striking, newly-granted sable-colored eyes. And now, she is radiant and glowing, with gold-touched wings and a halo brimming with light above her head, illuminating the two glittering diamonds in the hollows of her sockets.
“Eight,” she recognizes his magic, the gravitational pull of it and easily distinguishes it from all the other magicians she has encountered. She says his name with an easy smile, unafraid as she so stupidly often is, drawing close to him as a moth might to the flame. “You're still here,” she says, a statement and not a question, but the curiosity is still there. He had never struck her as the type to linger just for the sake of it, and she wonders what, if anything, has anchored him here.
-- ryatah.
I was catching up on posts I owed and then I did this instead