I should have loved a thunderbird instead
at least when spring comes they roar back again
Aegean delights in her own delight. He feels it reverberate in his bones and feels a shiver of pleasure run up his spine when he realizes that she appreciates the beautiful things as he does—that she too can feel the way that they blossom in your chest and take over. He watches her almost as much as he watches the ocean as it ebbs and flows around them, the sensations of it becoming increasingly permanent the longer that he is standing there. His hold over his gifts have become easier with time; at first, his illusions were flimsy things—easily dispelled and difficult to catch—but now? Now, he weaves like an artist.
So her appreciation is not lost on him, and his beautiful face glows brighter for it.
“It is easy when the world has such beautiful things,” he says quietly, his voice always just a touch too quiet but never a whisper. It wraps around his tongue and he gives it like a gift, pressing it into her palm before looking back up to see the waves cresting up near the tops of the trees, and the water rushing by.
Curious, he looks down to her again. “You know, I believe you could help me with this.” He has never tried it before—never once handed over the keys to the castle—but he believes he can. And like all things with his gift, he finds that it is as nearly fun to explore as it is to master the parts he has visited before.
“Just concentrate really hard and I think they will react to you—to what you’re thinking.”
He nods, reaching over to brush his velvet nose against the tear on her cheek, feeling comfortable with the way that she rests against his shoulder. “Forever is a long time,” he murmurs, thinking about the way that it stretches on and on, and how even his illusions may not be enough to carry him that far.
“But I have no place in particular that I need to be.”
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead
(I think I made you up inside my head.)