02-13-2017, 09:01 AM
Ruan
Recognition and understanding. That's what was reflected back at him in the depths of her blue eyes. He was soothed with a brief relief that she understood his avoidance, but also saddened that she had experienced things that made it possible for her to see it and know it. Whatever it was, it seemed to have made her stronger. Stronger even than him, perhaps.
He held stone-still as she reached for him, as her cream muzzle delicately brushed along his neck. For so long now, he had kept himself at a distance, even from his own adopted daughters. The sensation of warmth was startling, both comforting and painful, and it took a moment before he realized he'd held his breath. In a slow exhale, he released it.
He suddenly felt bare and vulnerable, and as she pulled away, he met her eyes as they delved deep into his. Searching. That was painful too, or maybe frightening, and he shuttered her from the secrets there as she glanced away, afraid she might find something in them she didn't like.
She spoke then, with a laugh that was not like the one before, not light and joyful. Are you sure that's one that you want to hear? she asked him, and he suddenly felt unworthy. Because he was sure, and he knew he couldn't do the same for her. He breathed slowly. After a long pause, he settled his head in the shallow water across her legs with a quiet sigh.
It would be a gift to share, but not one I can return, he said in low honesty, regretful. He would love to hear her story, but telling his own would hurt too much. He wasn't ready, some wounds still so recent. But he could treasure hers, if she spoke it. His eyes closed over the self-loathing that was beginning to seep in, hating how weak he must look to her now but unable to close this wound now that she has seen it.
He held stone-still as she reached for him, as her cream muzzle delicately brushed along his neck. For so long now, he had kept himself at a distance, even from his own adopted daughters. The sensation of warmth was startling, both comforting and painful, and it took a moment before he realized he'd held his breath. In a slow exhale, he released it.
He suddenly felt bare and vulnerable, and as she pulled away, he met her eyes as they delved deep into his. Searching. That was painful too, or maybe frightening, and he shuttered her from the secrets there as she glanced away, afraid she might find something in them she didn't like.
She spoke then, with a laugh that was not like the one before, not light and joyful. Are you sure that's one that you want to hear? she asked him, and he suddenly felt unworthy. Because he was sure, and he knew he couldn't do the same for her. He breathed slowly. After a long pause, he settled his head in the shallow water across her legs with a quiet sigh.
It would be a gift to share, but not one I can return, he said in low honesty, regretful. He would love to hear her story, but telling his own would hurt too much. He wasn't ready, some wounds still so recent. But he could treasure hers, if she spoke it. His eyes closed over the self-loathing that was beginning to seep in, hating how weak he must look to her now but unable to close this wound now that she has seen it.
