used to have a lot, but i got more now, adna

[adna]

and if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones
‘cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs

He is soft and sweet and in many ways, his kindness reminds Adna of her mother. It brings a sharp pain to her stomach, a blade that cuts quickly. She has to grit her teeth against the onslaught of it; it makes her eyes brighter and then duller all at once. But he is so sweet that she cannot help but soften to it. She cannot help but close her eyes against the feel of his lips against her cheek, his murmur into her flesh.

“I don’t have time to stop,” she confesses, and it’s a relief to say the words. “I’m running away and toward something and I couldn’t tell you the name of either.” A single shudder runs through her at the feel of his lips on her neck. “My family is falling apart and I’m not doing a thing to hold them together.”

She’s just running away and leaving the wreckage to them.

She’s not protecting her sisters. Not caring for her mom.

She hasn’t even bothered to tell them where she’s going.

“Don’t apologize,” she turns her gaze to him, studies the angelic, draconic angles of his face. “You have been the only kindness I have felt in a long while.” One corner of her youthful mouth tips upward, although it is difficult to not miss the fact that her smile looks like a frown. “My name is Adna.”

She hesitates as she reaches over to press her mouth into the strong angles of his neck. She lingers there for a moment, taking in the sweet and the spice of him, her lip dragging slightly against the flesh. It is an alien feeling to touch someone so intimately—someone who is not family, someone she has never met.

“I want to be a stranger,” another confession that she presses into his hands. “I want to forget.”

Adna closes her eyes and then presses the damp scales of her forehead against him.

“I want to be anyone but who I am.”

adna

we're setting fire to our insides for fun
collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home

@[Ophanim]