06-07-2021, 11:09 AM
She is only vaguely aware of what is happening on a more basal level, that all of his soft murmurs and easy smiles are knitting themselves into some important place inside her chest. She can sense the shift inside herself of course, the thawing of ice and the demolition of walls built to hide behind, to keep herself safe. But it doesn’t feel dangerous yet, doesn’t seem like this could be any kind of a mistake. He is so kind and so gentle, and there is more goodness in him in these few moments than she has ever known in anyone else. It isn’t love that builds inside her chest because it is eons too soon for that, but it is something lasting that binds her affection to him in a way she has not ever experienced before, and in its newness she does not know how to protect herself against it.
There is some kind of faint smile on her face and she starts to tell him no, that he doesn’t have to change the colors to match the reflection she is so used to, but he does it before she can stop him. Suddenly it is her face that stares back at her, though it is so unlike a reflection for the way it is animated by his emotions instead of her dull emptiness. It is enough to make her force her eyes softer, to make the effort to relax the muscles around her mouth so they are softer like his, less tense. She cannot help but feel like he is beautiful like this, like the contrast of colors is something more than she had ever imagined it to be. Like a collision of night and day, of dawn and dusk. She is certain that these colors look different on her face with her guarded eyes and unsmiling mouth. He is the warmth that she lacks.
He stumbles forward and she is at his side at once, walking closer than his shadow and silently forcing more of her healing into him despite that she has only dregs of exhaustion left. But she is deliberate in not mentioning that she can see how worn out he is, careful not to let him know she is still giving him what she cannot spare. She is sure he would tell her not to, and she is too tired to fight with him about it, too stubborn to stop.
“What do you mean by share memories?” She asks quietly, her eyes on his until the crooked smile at his mouth draws them lower for an instant. “Can they share anything they want?” It is easy to imagine what a burden that might be if it were uncontrollable - a kind of vulnerability that would almost absolutely drive her into solitude. Though, she cannot help but wonder what it would be like to see some of Nashua’s memories, and the thought feels so intrusive that she flushes silently with a guilty heat.
His skin changes again, and she finds she is glad to see that burning copper shade again, something brighter than any wild ore. It suits him more than her chimerism ever could. Especially those summer green eyes, warm and bright like buried emeralds. She listens to him silently, quietly glad for every bit of himself he shares with her. His is a kind of openness that leaves her feeling all tangled up in him. He gestures to the chestnut, naming it as his mothers just as she had named the parts of her own self for him. But she is not expecting it when he says his stripes belong to his children, and it is a wonder that she ever thought this beautiful heart might belong to no one.
“You have children?”She asks, and she isn’t sure why her voice sounds so strange right now or why it’s suddenly harder to look at the light of his warm face. There are glaciers moving inside her chest, a thaw coming undone as she struggles internally to understand why this truth feels like some kind of blow.
But then she realizes, and there is a kind of deep quiet that settles back over her and mutes the warmth that he had kindled in her mismatched eyes. It is a kind of numb realization, a discovery of foolishness that some wretched part of her had hoped he was as broken as she is, that maybe they could be broken together. It is better that he is whole and loved, that he belongs somewhere she cannot ruin him with her dark. Better for her to be reminded that she is better suited to the dark than to someone as light as him.
“Maybe it’s okay not to know.” She tells him when her thoughts have grown less tumultuous and the lonely pain inside her chest does not color the tone of her voice. “Maybe they’re just yours. I certainly can't imagine them being anything other than Nashua.” She says his name like it is something wonderful, like he is something wonderful, and while she says it with a kind of quiet levity, there is still an undeniable truth that rings in her voice.
She continues walking at his side, talking careful steps in the dark over root and rock guided only by the faint glowing of his beautiful stripes. “Well,” she says, and though it feels like she is sinking somewhere beyond where she can be reached, she turns her face to him again and smiles faintly, “if you need any clues, I think I already have a pretty good idea of that.” Of who he is. Then her smile turns coy, but it is only to hide the pain on her face and the brokenness in her voice when she answers him far too honestly. “Me? Oh I’m no one.” She’s still smiling when she looks away again, still hanging on desperately to that coy mask so that he will hear her truth and think she is only teasing. But there is a numbness inside her chest as she looks on ahead through the dark forest with a sense of overwhelming emptiness, like she is erosion in fast forward. “I think we’re getting closer to home.” Except, she realizes dully, that this place where he lives with his family no longer feels like it has room for her. Not home.
There is some kind of faint smile on her face and she starts to tell him no, that he doesn’t have to change the colors to match the reflection she is so used to, but he does it before she can stop him. Suddenly it is her face that stares back at her, though it is so unlike a reflection for the way it is animated by his emotions instead of her dull emptiness. It is enough to make her force her eyes softer, to make the effort to relax the muscles around her mouth so they are softer like his, less tense. She cannot help but feel like he is beautiful like this, like the contrast of colors is something more than she had ever imagined it to be. Like a collision of night and day, of dawn and dusk. She is certain that these colors look different on her face with her guarded eyes and unsmiling mouth. He is the warmth that she lacks.
He stumbles forward and she is at his side at once, walking closer than his shadow and silently forcing more of her healing into him despite that she has only dregs of exhaustion left. But she is deliberate in not mentioning that she can see how worn out he is, careful not to let him know she is still giving him what she cannot spare. She is sure he would tell her not to, and she is too tired to fight with him about it, too stubborn to stop.
“What do you mean by share memories?” She asks quietly, her eyes on his until the crooked smile at his mouth draws them lower for an instant. “Can they share anything they want?” It is easy to imagine what a burden that might be if it were uncontrollable - a kind of vulnerability that would almost absolutely drive her into solitude. Though, she cannot help but wonder what it would be like to see some of Nashua’s memories, and the thought feels so intrusive that she flushes silently with a guilty heat.
His skin changes again, and she finds she is glad to see that burning copper shade again, something brighter than any wild ore. It suits him more than her chimerism ever could. Especially those summer green eyes, warm and bright like buried emeralds. She listens to him silently, quietly glad for every bit of himself he shares with her. His is a kind of openness that leaves her feeling all tangled up in him. He gestures to the chestnut, naming it as his mothers just as she had named the parts of her own self for him. But she is not expecting it when he says his stripes belong to his children, and it is a wonder that she ever thought this beautiful heart might belong to no one.
“You have children?”She asks, and she isn’t sure why her voice sounds so strange right now or why it’s suddenly harder to look at the light of his warm face. There are glaciers moving inside her chest, a thaw coming undone as she struggles internally to understand why this truth feels like some kind of blow.
But then she realizes, and there is a kind of deep quiet that settles back over her and mutes the warmth that he had kindled in her mismatched eyes. It is a kind of numb realization, a discovery of foolishness that some wretched part of her had hoped he was as broken as she is, that maybe they could be broken together. It is better that he is whole and loved, that he belongs somewhere she cannot ruin him with her dark. Better for her to be reminded that she is better suited to the dark than to someone as light as him.
“Maybe it’s okay not to know.” She tells him when her thoughts have grown less tumultuous and the lonely pain inside her chest does not color the tone of her voice. “Maybe they’re just yours. I certainly can't imagine them being anything other than Nashua.” She says his name like it is something wonderful, like he is something wonderful, and while she says it with a kind of quiet levity, there is still an undeniable truth that rings in her voice.
She continues walking at his side, talking careful steps in the dark over root and rock guided only by the faint glowing of his beautiful stripes. “Well,” she says, and though it feels like she is sinking somewhere beyond where she can be reached, she turns her face to him again and smiles faintly, “if you need any clues, I think I already have a pretty good idea of that.” Of who he is. Then her smile turns coy, but it is only to hide the pain on her face and the brokenness in her voice when she answers him far too honestly. “Me? Oh I’m no one.” She’s still smiling when she looks away again, still hanging on desperately to that coy mask so that he will hear her truth and think she is only teasing. But there is a numbness inside her chest as she looks on ahead through the dark forest with a sense of overwhelming emptiness, like she is erosion in fast forward. “I think we’re getting closer to home.” Except, she realizes dully, that this place where he lives with his family no longer feels like it has room for her. Not home.
ILLUMINAE
we can't dream when we're awake,
or fall in love with a heart too strong to break
@[Nashua]