[open] ain't that just the way//any

[Eight]

eight

He could know everything about her in a breath. Her thoughts and wishes and desires are all his for the taking. Her lack of discern for him, her aching desire for so much more. There is nothing to hide- nothing to fear. There is nothing but him and her; a moment in time that could stretch eons if she lets it - or it can break in an instance. Because that is all anything ever is - something so simple and sweet and delicate as a placeholder in time. In a way, it is just like power - fleeting and fierce, but oh so gentle to the touch.

(But she does not. And of course she does not. Because there is so much more for her out there.)

He doesn’t know if he exists or not anymore- maybe that’s what happens when you get too old, when you are too far gone, when so much life has passed by. What is real and what is what you’ve wished for? And you cannot take a claim to anything you have ever done, or will do.

How strange to see the future before him - a girl who wants to taste everything, who wants to feel the world, who wants to conquer everything she steps upon. In his old age, it is almost nostalgic. It is almost like seeing himself as a small thing in Gallows’ band of conquestidors. Once upon a time, he was the same kind of hungry. Once upon a time, he had the same gall that she did - and it is a blessing to see. Remember, remember? There were days where everything was not possible - before magic, before might, before the faeries infected his blood and bone.

How could you ever know that he could be a key to salvation - the answer to everything you wanted? He is so simple. So plain. In the course of your golden path, he is a dark and slumbering shadow - something to overlook and see beyond.

” I am real enough. He speaks to her the best way it seems she knows how. Her head cracks open to him, a way to communicate (and yet somehow he does not push further. Words are enough - he does not wish to know the desires and thoughts deep inside). He steps closer, now that she has stopped her wayward movement. “You’re looking for something that’s not here. What is it?” It is floating and fleeting, a thought into the wind - but he knows she will catch it.

She is golden, and she is almost fire, and she will be his.

mind my wicked words and tipsy topsy smirk

@[Aela]