maybe you were the ocean
The ocean melts into static when she pulls at the ends of his mane.
It shouldn’t snare him, but it does. The touch, simple and empty, brings his thoughts home from the sea and he notices for the first time that her eyes are violet (that they could drown him like the sea if he’d only let them) as his own linger just a half beat too long. She asks him to elaborate, and with her skin this close to his own it’s a wonder he hasn’t told her everything already. “Oh,” he says, stumbling, and his eyes find the sea again as he conjures the lines of Wax’s face, and finally breaking his intrusive gaze.
“I have a twin,” he says, absently, seeing her face in the white caps of the ocean waves. Or he had a twin; it had been years now despite the closeness they’d shared in their youth, despite the simple truth that she was supposed to have left home a mere twelve hours after he had. He wonders what became of her. He can’t help himself. It clouds his wild eyes until a rakish grin finds his face and makes it bright again.
“A sister, before you get your hopes too high. And regardless, I’m the better looking one.”
A lie, because she is as bright and alive as the fire she resembles, though Wane was narcissistic enough to let the idea run away with him on an occasion. He swallows every word she gently asks him for; how his sister is beautiful, how he followed in her wake his entire existence until he couldn’t, how it felt now like there were oceans between them.
And he looks at her again, like he can see inside of her to what she is made of, and he thinks to himself that the soft colours of her body come together like continents because something about his sister always made his edges softer.
“Do you miss what you don’t remember?”
@[Agnieszka]