isn't it lovely all alone, heart made of glass, my mind of stone
She finds herself wishing that she knew how to be something that he, or anyone, would like. But it was a surface want; not something that she often thought about, and certainly not anything that ever brought her any kind of sorrow. It’s only something that she thinks of now that she stands face to face with someone she knows she cannot, and likely will not ever, fully connect with. It seemed so easy for everyone else, but it has never come natural for her. Even with her twin – someone she had shared the very beginning of life with before they were ever born – there was something standing in her way.
“I don’t mind watching them, but it doesn’t mean I want to talk to them.” She says it in her easy, matter-of-fact way of speaking, and somehow that seems to take the curtness away from what could be seen as a blunt statement. “Tiercel,” she tests his name, and she finds that she likes the way it feels. She hasn’t had the chance to say many names, and the way she says his is slow and careful. “Nice to meet you,” she says, but only because she has heard her mother say it before.
But his question creates a bubble of hesitation, and a guarded caution shadows her face. “Do you want to be close?” She is unsure of why he would want such a thing, and she struggles internally to decipher if it’s something she is also expected to want. She lowers her delicate head a moment, trying to gather her thoughts, and then her dark eyes shift back to his face. He seems quiet and relaxed, and with a slow exhale from her lips she realizes that she should be, too. “I don’t want you to leave, yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”
@[Tiercel]