01-25-2020, 07:59 PM
she fell for the idea of him
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
He’s angry, because of course he is. Maybe angry isn’t the right word – because she has seen real anger, the kind that makes her blood freeze and her heart stop. The kind that makes her afraid of dying while simultaneously hoping that when it does come it is at least fast. Ashhal does not inspire fear in her the way that real, palpable anger does. She is not afraid of him hurting her; not physically. And if there was even a shred of a chance that he could hurt her emotionally, that was something she had walled off a long time ago.
Because everything about her was a contradiction – an angel with the tainted soul, a heart that loves too much and yet doesn’t love at all.
And so if his denial bothers her, it never has the chance to show. She doesn’t know why his irate reaction suddenly makes her miss Skellig – she always missed him, of course, but something about this situation sparks it with such a fresh intensity that she thinks her heart might split in half. Maybe because he is the only one that things had ever been normal with; he stayed with her when their children were born, and raised them, and he became the closest thing to a home she has ever had.
She had wasted it all, tossed it aside, for her own reckless wants.
She smothers whatever conflicted emotions that churn inside of her chest, and regards him only with a placid kind of indifference. “Just because you deny it doesn’t make it any less true,” she is needling him at this point, and doesn’t really care. Her lips toy with the downy feathers on the girl’s small wings, and again traces the lines of her sweet face before looking back at Ashhal. “Why are you so mad? You can’t possibly be surprised that sometimes this is what happens.” There is still an edge to her voice, however slight though it may be. But she tilts her haloed head away, and though she looks at the white, winged girl at her feet her words are for him. “I’ve never asked or expected anything of you. So stop acting like I’ve somehow completely inconvenienced you.”
Because everything about her was a contradiction – an angel with the tainted soul, a heart that loves too much and yet doesn’t love at all.
And so if his denial bothers her, it never has the chance to show. She doesn’t know why his irate reaction suddenly makes her miss Skellig – she always missed him, of course, but something about this situation sparks it with such a fresh intensity that she thinks her heart might split in half. Maybe because he is the only one that things had ever been normal with; he stayed with her when their children were born, and raised them, and he became the closest thing to a home she has ever had.
She had wasted it all, tossed it aside, for her own reckless wants.
She smothers whatever conflicted emotions that churn inside of her chest, and regards him only with a placid kind of indifference. “Just because you deny it doesn’t make it any less true,” she is needling him at this point, and doesn’t really care. Her lips toy with the downy feathers on the girl’s small wings, and again traces the lines of her sweet face before looking back at Ashhal. “Why are you so mad? You can’t possibly be surprised that sometimes this is what happens.” There is still an edge to her voice, however slight though it may be. But she tilts her haloed head away, and though she looks at the white, winged girl at her feet her words are for him. “I’ve never asked or expected anything of you. So stop acting like I’ve somehow completely inconvenienced you.”
ryatah