06-04-2019, 01:15 AM
She can feel that he doesn’t want her here, and she can’t blame him. Maybe he can sense that there is something different and wrong about her; maybe he can feel the heat that boils under her skin, like a wildfire that she cannot control. Her mind races in the silence between them, and she fills it with false thoughts and made-up scenarios. She can only imagine what he must be thinking of her; how badly he must wish that she would turn and come back the way she had come, so that he might not have to withstand another second of her watching. It’s something in the tension of his muscles and the way he locks his jaw that tells her that he wants her to leave.
She doesn’t know why that immediately incites an anger inside of her, but it does.
An anger at herself, not at him, but the way her demeanor changes doesn’t entirely reflect that.
The hope and curiosity dies in her eyes, replaced by something much more guarded and cold. But she doesn’t retreat, even though she is tempted to. She wants to obey the secret wish she has created for him inside of her head — the one that says he wants her to go — but stubbornly, she stays. Somewhere, tucked far enough away that she can’t understand it, she so desperately wants him — or just someone — to like her.
There is a sort of defiance that flickers briefly across her face, and she takes a step towards him. She won’t touch him; she would never inflict that kind of damage on anyone. But of course he could not possibly know that, and that small spark that had temporarily lit in her eyes seemed to dare him to be the first to back away. “Brigade,” she echoes his name back to him, and even though she knows she should soften her stance, she can’t. “What do you hide from?” She asks, because she thinks everyone in the forest and mountains must be like her. She thinks everyone must hide from something.
@[brigade]
She doesn’t know why that immediately incites an anger inside of her, but it does.
An anger at herself, not at him, but the way her demeanor changes doesn’t entirely reflect that.
The hope and curiosity dies in her eyes, replaced by something much more guarded and cold. But she doesn’t retreat, even though she is tempted to. She wants to obey the secret wish she has created for him inside of her head — the one that says he wants her to go — but stubbornly, she stays. Somewhere, tucked far enough away that she can’t understand it, she so desperately wants him — or just someone — to like her.
There is a sort of defiance that flickers briefly across her face, and she takes a step towards him. She won’t touch him; she would never inflict that kind of damage on anyone. But of course he could not possibly know that, and that small spark that had temporarily lit in her eyes seemed to dare him to be the first to back away. “Brigade,” she echoes his name back to him, and even though she knows she should soften her stance, she can’t. “What do you hide from?” She asks, because she thinks everyone in the forest and mountains must be like her. She thinks everyone must hide from something.
B R I N L Y
burn until our lives become the embers
burn until our lives become the embers
@[brigade]