10-28-2021, 06:00 PM
BUT I HOPE I NEVER LOSE THE BRUISES THAT YOU LEFT BEHIND
She is treading into unfamiliar territory, and she finds herself wishing she had someone here to guide her. Someone to tell her what she should say and do in order to bring him some kind of solace, if such a thing is even possible. Because she is awkward and stumbling as she tries to find a way to console him, and she can’t help but to think that anyone besides her would be better suited for this.
She thinks the younger version of herself might have known how to handle this.
That young, bold girl that had aided in his escape without a moment’s hesitation; the girl that had always been so quick to laugh despite whatever darkness may linger. Being born in the middle of a war had made her resilient, but she had been determined that it would not make her hard. But as much as she had tried to avoid it, life had still done that for her. She had erected walls without even meaning to, had taught herself that softness meant weakness—that letting herself care about anyone, much less actually showing them, was only going to set herself up for disappointment and hurt.
It’s why something inside of her tenses when he returns her touch. Perhaps because she had not expected the action to be reciprocated, or perhaps because that same warmth is spreading beneath her skin and her chest is constricting with a feeling she is unfamiliar with. When he pulls away she feels a mixture of relief and disappointment, and trying to untangle the meaning behind either of those emotions was not something she had been prepared for. There is a not so secret part of her that wanted to know what it might have felt like had he kept touching her, that wants to know if he felt anything at all when his skin touched hers. But her fear overpowers everything else, and she can only spare him a searching stare, and she lets that distance continue to exist between them.
After considering his question, she finally says, “because I know you.” She offers him a small smile, her guarded face softening. “I was there when you left the place you came from. I know that you wanted to be different—that you are different.” She finds herself stepping towards him again, and while she does not close the distance entirely she is close enough to need to tilt her head to ensure she doesn’t catch him with the tips of her antlers. “And I’m glad that you’re here,” the sincerity makes her voice feel tight, and while there are more things that she wishes she could say she finds that she is still struggling with putting it all into words, and so instead she only falls quiet.
She thinks the younger version of herself might have known how to handle this.
That young, bold girl that had aided in his escape without a moment’s hesitation; the girl that had always been so quick to laugh despite whatever darkness may linger. Being born in the middle of a war had made her resilient, but she had been determined that it would not make her hard. But as much as she had tried to avoid it, life had still done that for her. She had erected walls without even meaning to, had taught herself that softness meant weakness—that letting herself care about anyone, much less actually showing them, was only going to set herself up for disappointment and hurt.
It’s why something inside of her tenses when he returns her touch. Perhaps because she had not expected the action to be reciprocated, or perhaps because that same warmth is spreading beneath her skin and her chest is constricting with a feeling she is unfamiliar with. When he pulls away she feels a mixture of relief and disappointment, and trying to untangle the meaning behind either of those emotions was not something she had been prepared for. There is a not so secret part of her that wanted to know what it might have felt like had he kept touching her, that wants to know if he felt anything at all when his skin touched hers. But her fear overpowers everything else, and she can only spare him a searching stare, and she lets that distance continue to exist between them.
After considering his question, she finally says, “because I know you.” She offers him a small smile, her guarded face softening. “I was there when you left the place you came from. I know that you wanted to be different—that you are different.” She finds herself stepping towards him again, and while she does not close the distance entirely she is close enough to need to tilt her head to ensure she doesn’t catch him with the tips of her antlers. “And I’m glad that you’re here,” the sincerity makes her voice feel tight, and while there are more things that she wishes she could say she finds that she is still struggling with putting it all into words, and so instead she only falls quiet.
A I S L Y N
@Voracious
