05-30-2021, 02:00 PM
The longer she stands here with him in the everdark, the more at ease she feels. It is as though his calm is something contagious, and when his grin grows bright again, she cannot help but to reflect that light back at him. “I would like that very much.” She says, and her eyes lose some of the dull sorrow when the smile-warmth reaches them. “How are you so sure of everything? Of the sun, and that we’ll see each other again.” There is nothing cynical in the sound of her quiet voice, just an earnest kind of gentle wonder as she lets the ripples of his mood lap against her spirit.
It is good that he is so immune to her sorrows, to the quiet moments that haunt her. It is even better that he doesn’t hold them against her. When she speaks again and he leans in, there is a moment where his closeness sends a shiver of surprise racing up along the curve of her spine. Her wings lift slightly, the feathers a whisper of browns and soft tawny shades, of dark and pale and everything in between. She inhales sharply, buries that thing that sounds like a gasp back down somewhere deep inside her chest. It is easier to do so when that faint disappointment registers in his cerulean gaze and she knows there is nothing left of the sun burning inside her.
What if it never came back?
But he doesn’t let her worry long, and when he speaks she is grateful for that note of sympathy in his voice, grateful for the ferocity of his faith. More than grateful for the grin that slips back across that beautiful blue mouth again. She might’ve reached out to touch his cheek, to feel the warmth of that gem-bright blue. But something holds her quiet. “I won’t worry.” She promises, and though her eyes are dark and flat, the warmth of the color seems even warmer in the light of him. “I can’t wait to show you.”
For just the briefest moment her eyes wander over his face again, and she knows she is memorizing this specific shade of blue, the way his sky blue eyes alight when that grin slips over his mouth. She is counting his sparks as they leap from his skin, though they are much like stars in the way they are impossible to keep track of. “The dark may not suit me,” she tells him, returning her eyes to his again, “but it certainly suits you.” The compliment is easy and genuine, an observation she is sure he must already be aware of. You can’t be that perfect and not know it. “You know, you never did tell me what it’s like to be you.” And her smile is softer now, crinkling at the corners of eyes made gentle by the company of her newest friend.
aureline
dear wilderness, be at your best
her armor is thin as the fabric of her dress
@[Laurelin]