love is my religion. i could die for that.
Perhaps they are cut from the same cloth—their hearts beating in tandem, their pulse looping softly together. Perhaps they both long for the same thing, that illusive and wild thing as love. He knows it in his very cells that he will always long for it, will always cherish it, will always worship it in a way. One day, he may find a love that grounds him, that anchors him (the kind of love of his mothers, that beautiful and rare thing) but he cannot imagine it. Cannot imagine this wild, thrashing heart being hidden away.
He wants to give it to those who are fierce, to those who are beautiful, to those who are soft.
He wants to give it to those who will love it and those who will ruin it.
But in this moment, when there is nothing but her and her soft eyes and fragile smile, he only wants to give it to her. He ducks his head as she does hers, shy in her presence even though he has never felt truly timid. But he is mild all the same, sure and steadfast even as the tides of him ebb and flow around her.
When she looks up, and then to him, she finds that his eyes are already on her, the amethyst of them serious and somber, tracing the youthful angles of her face. “I do not think it is strange,” he says quietly, his face grave. “I think of such things. I think such things are the most important of questions.”
His philosophers heart cannot help but wonder and dream.
“I am sure there is an explanation for all light as there is for all things,” he says, voice still a murmur, a delicate extension of himself. “But I cannot help but prefer to think of the poetic. That all light originates in and from us.” His pale lips spread into a dreamy smile as he angles his head toward her.
“Or perhaps that is simply wishful thinking from a silly boy who glows.”
i could die for you.
@[Evenstar]