01-08-2019, 07:09 PM
Jinn
I had a dream that we were dead,
and we pretended that we still lived
and we pretended that we still lived
For a moment he thinks perhaps he had, quite by accident, stumbled across the right lake. When the soft, faintly concerned notes of her lovely voice reaches his ears, his eyes pop open, milky blue gaze falling to the still surface. He is confused for a moment, but when she speaks once more, from behind him, he swings his head around to find her staring at him from the edges for the trees.
He blinks for a moment, before shifting, slightly uncomfortable to be so exposed near the water’s edge. He flicks the golden strands of his tail haphazardly, as though it might hide the way his hip bones jut against his loose skin, or the way his ribs are so clearly defined through his shaggy, patchy pelt.
Even before the plague, he had looked thus. Sickly, as though he should be sprawled dead on the ground rather than walking and breathing and speaking. As though other’s needed further reason to avoid him. More ways in which he might be seen as unsightly and beastly.
“Adria,” he replies, his uncertainty seeping into his voice. “Yes, I… suppose it is.” He shifts again, his gaze darting to the safety of the trees, as though contemplating ducking for cover. “I just… wasn’t sure where to find you.”
A half laugh escapes him at that, though it quickly turns into a faint cough, a clearing of his throat. Foolish really, as it turns out she hadn’t been too difficult to find. But he has so rarely had opportunity to practice conversation, to seek out others. Friendship is as foreign to him as the kingdoms he never visits.
“That is, if you still want me here,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. A frown touches his lips with the words, the possibility that he might no longer be welcome stirring an ache in his chest, sending anxious thoughts tumbling through his mind. “I can go, if you don’t.”
He blinks for a moment, before shifting, slightly uncomfortable to be so exposed near the water’s edge. He flicks the golden strands of his tail haphazardly, as though it might hide the way his hip bones jut against his loose skin, or the way his ribs are so clearly defined through his shaggy, patchy pelt.
Even before the plague, he had looked thus. Sickly, as though he should be sprawled dead on the ground rather than walking and breathing and speaking. As though other’s needed further reason to avoid him. More ways in which he might be seen as unsightly and beastly.
“Adria,” he replies, his uncertainty seeping into his voice. “Yes, I… suppose it is.” He shifts again, his gaze darting to the safety of the trees, as though contemplating ducking for cover. “I just… wasn’t sure where to find you.”
A half laugh escapes him at that, though it quickly turns into a faint cough, a clearing of his throat. Foolish really, as it turns out she hadn’t been too difficult to find. But he has so rarely had opportunity to practice conversation, to seek out others. Friendship is as foreign to him as the kingdoms he never visits.
“That is, if you still want me here,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. A frown touches his lips with the words, the possibility that he might no longer be welcome stirring an ache in his chest, sending anxious thoughts tumbling through his mind. “I can go, if you don’t.”
