05-24-2020, 02:36 AM
“I know when you go
down all your darkest roads
I would have followed all the way
to the graveyard.”
down all your darkest roads
I would have followed all the way
to the graveyard.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” and though spoken lightly there is a weighted truth to it, and again something like sorrow or confusion shadows her face. He hasn’t left yet, and he keeps looking at her in a way similar to how she looks at him – like he is trying to figure her out, or like he wants to learn all the things that make her tick. But he calls her angel, and she wonders what he would think if he discovered that she was anything but.
Would he change his mind if she knew she had love, once, and it was honest and kind, and she left it behind in favor of those that could never reciprocate it? Would he still think she was an angel if he knew the only light she had was this ethereal glow, but even she doesn’t know where it comes from, because it certainly cannot possibly be from her?
He could not possibly still think she was angel if he knew how quickly she yielded to nearly any man that pretended to want her, that she would rather let them use her than to never have them at all. She is covered in their marks, from the scars at her neck and withers, to the intricate design burned into her hip, and the spider-web of cracks across her heart. There is not a single part of her that has not been touched by someone else, she was wretched and used and nothing like an angel at all.
His own version of teasing coaxes another real smile to her lips, and she tilts her pale head to lift her gaze to his when she responds in kind, “Well, hopefully I never have to see that hostile side of you.” The sudden simmer that alights in the dark of her eyes betrays the lilt and almost laugh to her words, because what a lie that is; as if she does not seek out the dark in everyone, as if she would not beg for shadows to choke away her light.
She is surprised, though, when he steps closer. When she is suddenly staring so close at his handsome face, when she is made aware of every breath in her lungs and every quickened beat of her heart. She resists the urge to reach out and touch him, and instead she focuses her eyes on his, at the shadows that seem to swim behind them. “Maybe,” she says quietly, an almost aching whisper, because the truth of it is she has always been terrible at staying in one place, and yet there is an inexplicable pull that always takes her back to Hyaline. “Would it still be considered disappearing if I told you where to find me?”
His lips touch her shoulder, and there is a breath that sighs from her lips, her dark lashes fluttering closed. There is a moment where she just lets him touch her, where she just stands and lets him explore that one single part of her, until she, too steps forward. Her nose brushes against the tangled fall of his mane, pressing until her lips find his neck beneath it. There is a soft intake of breath when the feel of frost meets the warmth of her own skin, but instead of pulling away she shifts closer. So enraptured at the way her touch chases away the cold of him she almost does not hear what he says, but when she does it incites another laugh, though this time the sound is lost in the tendrils of his hair and the slope of his shoulder. “Did I not tell you that last time? No wonder you disappeared.” Another touch against his neck, trailing towards his throat before she says, “Ryatah.”
Would he change his mind if she knew she had love, once, and it was honest and kind, and she left it behind in favor of those that could never reciprocate it? Would he still think she was an angel if he knew the only light she had was this ethereal glow, but even she doesn’t know where it comes from, because it certainly cannot possibly be from her?
He could not possibly still think she was angel if he knew how quickly she yielded to nearly any man that pretended to want her, that she would rather let them use her than to never have them at all. She is covered in their marks, from the scars at her neck and withers, to the intricate design burned into her hip, and the spider-web of cracks across her heart. There is not a single part of her that has not been touched by someone else, she was wretched and used and nothing like an angel at all.
His own version of teasing coaxes another real smile to her lips, and she tilts her pale head to lift her gaze to his when she responds in kind, “Well, hopefully I never have to see that hostile side of you.” The sudden simmer that alights in the dark of her eyes betrays the lilt and almost laugh to her words, because what a lie that is; as if she does not seek out the dark in everyone, as if she would not beg for shadows to choke away her light.
She is surprised, though, when he steps closer. When she is suddenly staring so close at his handsome face, when she is made aware of every breath in her lungs and every quickened beat of her heart. She resists the urge to reach out and touch him, and instead she focuses her eyes on his, at the shadows that seem to swim behind them. “Maybe,” she says quietly, an almost aching whisper, because the truth of it is she has always been terrible at staying in one place, and yet there is an inexplicable pull that always takes her back to Hyaline. “Would it still be considered disappearing if I told you where to find me?”
His lips touch her shoulder, and there is a breath that sighs from her lips, her dark lashes fluttering closed. There is a moment where she just lets him touch her, where she just stands and lets him explore that one single part of her, until she, too steps forward. Her nose brushes against the tangled fall of his mane, pressing until her lips find his neck beneath it. There is a soft intake of breath when the feel of frost meets the warmth of her own skin, but instead of pulling away she shifts closer. So enraptured at the way her touch chases away the cold of him she almost does not hear what he says, but when she does it incites another laugh, though this time the sound is lost in the tendrils of his hair and the slope of his shoulder. “Did I not tell you that last time? No wonder you disappeared.” Another touch against his neck, trailing towards his throat before she says, “Ryatah.”
ryatah