03-28-2021, 03:33 PM
THESE DAYS I DON’T PRAY WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES
I JUST BITE MY TONGUE A BIT HARDER
I JUST BITE MY TONGUE A BIT HARDER
Guilt pulses in the boy’s chest as the warmth drains from the white mare’s eyes. He has upset her with his honesty and he has no choice but to look away while his shame thickens in his throat. Surely she will send him away now. He shifts his weight, preparing to take his leave. He knows that he has already overstayed his welcome. He has suspected all along that his mother is the only reason he has been allowed to stay as long as he has and he will have to remember to thank her. And perhaps he has learned a lesson about honesty. Perhaps he has learned to play his cards a little closer to the vest.
But she apologizes to him and he chances a glance at her, wary. Just as she could not have predicted the trajectory of their conversation, he could not have predicted this. His breath hitches as she speaks and he swallows hard against the sudden influx of hope that blooms and bursts where guilt had flourished only moments earlier. He holds his breath, uncertain, as she continues.
And then, for the first time in his young life, his eyes water with stark, unfettered relief. He smiles (though even this is tinged with a certain kind of sadness, a sort of sorrow the boy will carry with him all his life) and looks at her plainly now. His heart hammers out something sideways, reckless and wild. He sucks in a sharp breath, smelling the death on her still and shakes his haloed head.
The smile disappears just as suddenly as it had lit up his solemn face and a frown darkens his face as he studies her face, her features thrown into sharp relief by the flames surrounding her. “How can I repay you for saving my life twice?” he asks, frowning fiercely. Such a just and moral child.
But she apologizes to him and he chances a glance at her, wary. Just as she could not have predicted the trajectory of their conversation, he could not have predicted this. His breath hitches as she speaks and he swallows hard against the sudden influx of hope that blooms and bursts where guilt had flourished only moments earlier. He holds his breath, uncertain, as she continues.
And then, for the first time in his young life, his eyes water with stark, unfettered relief. He smiles (though even this is tinged with a certain kind of sadness, a sort of sorrow the boy will carry with him all his life) and looks at her plainly now. His heart hammers out something sideways, reckless and wild. He sucks in a sharp breath, smelling the death on her still and shakes his haloed head.
The smile disappears just as suddenly as it had lit up his solemn face and a frown darkens his face as he studies her face, her features thrown into sharp relief by the flames surrounding her. “How can I repay you for saving my life twice?” he asks, frowning fiercely. Such a just and moral child.
Selaphiel
@[Mazikeen]
@[The Monsters] let's mess with his reflective teleportation