05-22-2021, 06:46 PM
Maybe one day. She nods imperceptibly, as if even this sounds like a pipe dream, this nebulous statement, and the turn of her ear suggests exactly how dubious she is of such a future. There's a sea of doubt between here and there, and her mind circles back on itself like a chase-weary fox avoiding the baying hounds in relentless, tenacious, pursuit, round and round and round until the press of his lips against her shoulder brings it all to a shuddering halt.
That tunnel vision of bitterness and anxiety suddenly falls away and her eyes, unused to the sun, are blinded by its brightness, but she's been so long hating everything, so long with death in her eyes, that it's almost a relief to see nothing at all. Every sense but touch seems muted and delayed, and her skin feels so much like fire that she can imagine the glowing trails he's tracing along her body.
It works, for a time. She forgets, with nothing to see but the deepwood around them and him, wrapped thickly enough in her darkness that he's almost himself (it is less easy to ignore the way the light of their halos glows against her shoulder bones, but she does, willfully and angrily,) and she begins to let go, if only just a little. When he's beside her again, she growls softly, the lioness stretching out against those loosened bonds, and bites at his shadow-strewn neck with those same curved canines that once drew blood but now only scrape hard enough to part the satin hair of his coat.
And she keeps pretending, that everything is fine and that she isn't going to disappear again as soon as he's asleep.
That tunnel vision of bitterness and anxiety suddenly falls away and her eyes, unused to the sun, are blinded by its brightness, but she's been so long hating everything, so long with death in her eyes, that it's almost a relief to see nothing at all. Every sense but touch seems muted and delayed, and her skin feels so much like fire that she can imagine the glowing trails he's tracing along her body.
It works, for a time. She forgets, with nothing to see but the deepwood around them and him, wrapped thickly enough in her darkness that he's almost himself (it is less easy to ignore the way the light of their halos glows against her shoulder bones, but she does, willfully and angrily,) and she begins to let go, if only just a little. When he's beside her again, she growls softly, the lioness stretching out against those loosened bonds, and bites at his shadow-strewn neck with those same curved canines that once drew blood but now only scrape hard enough to part the satin hair of his coat.
And she keeps pretending, that everything is fine and that she isn't going to disappear again as soon as he's asleep.
@[Cassian]
Just a short final post for Beryl so we can get on with things
