06-19-2017, 09:05 PM
tangerine
face to the sun
He tells her everything is right, and she believes him. Her shoulders relax and she presses a little more of her weight into his strong side.
“You are my first friend.” The simple statement he makes imprints on her heart in a way she would have not expected. She hadn’t given much thought to his past life, she had taken the happiness of her own upbringing for granted and assumed he had enjoyed the same. He had crafted his persona in his new home, and he played the part well – so well Tang had never considered that he may have been born of heartache. But she doesn’t realize all of this, she just now understands that the boy with the scales holds secrets.
He is so young, her own age, and amiable she assumed he had many friends. Growing up on the plains of her homeland she had been surrounded by a sea of ever-changing new faces. Some she had connected with and others who had drifted away nearly as soon as she had meet them. But there were many who she would consider her friends.
What kind of world had he lived in?
She can tell he is on the brink of telling her something big, something that made him who he is. But she remains patient, continuing to smooth his mane and he speaks, every word laced with hesitancy. And then he speaks of his siblings and she understands more than he tells her. They came here together, some would consider them and herself run-aways, but they had run for very different reasons. Or so she suspects, from his shrouded words and vacant eyes.
So, the King and the vagabond girl are not so different after all.
But she respects his decision, to leave the topic for now. She nods into his neck (where her head rests) with understanding as his last words reach her. “I think that is a good idea.” She breathes against his skin. “I think you are a wise king.”
And then she tries to pull his eyes back to her, away from the bad memories, with a smile. She looks to his eyes then, her own amber orbs soft and understanding. She is reading him, ready pivot whichever direction he takes.
“You are my first friend.” The simple statement he makes imprints on her heart in a way she would have not expected. She hadn’t given much thought to his past life, she had taken the happiness of her own upbringing for granted and assumed he had enjoyed the same. He had crafted his persona in his new home, and he played the part well – so well Tang had never considered that he may have been born of heartache. But she doesn’t realize all of this, she just now understands that the boy with the scales holds secrets.
He is so young, her own age, and amiable she assumed he had many friends. Growing up on the plains of her homeland she had been surrounded by a sea of ever-changing new faces. Some she had connected with and others who had drifted away nearly as soon as she had meet them. But there were many who she would consider her friends.
What kind of world had he lived in?
She can tell he is on the brink of telling her something big, something that made him who he is. But she remains patient, continuing to smooth his mane and he speaks, every word laced with hesitancy. And then he speaks of his siblings and she understands more than he tells her. They came here together, some would consider them and herself run-aways, but they had run for very different reasons. Or so she suspects, from his shrouded words and vacant eyes.
So, the King and the vagabond girl are not so different after all.
But she respects his decision, to leave the topic for now. She nods into his neck (where her head rests) with understanding as his last words reach her. “I think that is a good idea.” She breathes against his skin. “I think you are a wise king.”
And then she tries to pull his eyes back to her, away from the bad memories, with a smile. She looks to his eyes then, her own amber orbs soft and understanding. She is reading him, ready pivot whichever direction he takes.
