oh, these wings, they flicker and my feathers stir
'til I'm an ancient soul in a cascade world
He wonders at what lives beneath the surface of her. Does she have the same insecurities that he does? Does she wake in the middle of the night and find that the edges of her heart are too close? Does she find herself alone in the middle of conversation? Does she watch others and try to study them—try to figure out what makes them so at ease in situations? Or is she like his sister, so joyful on the surface, so sure.
He has no real way of knowing, but it makes him better to think of her as the same.
So he does.
He forms the thought and swallows it down deep into his belly.
“They are pretty great,” he affirms as they continue to walk. He feels a low flush of heat across his cheeks as he realizes that he has made her walk to explore and then offered nothing exciting for her to find. It has just been walking, and he wishes desperately for something exciting to happen to make it worthwhile.
He is distracted for a second as he watches the same trees that she does. “Uh, yeah,” he says, before he shakes his head and brings his attention back to her. “I mean, I don’t think she’s scared of strangers.” He is, he knows, but that’s not what makes Astrum quite so intolerant of those she doesn’t know.
But how does he explain the possessiveness of a star to her?
“Are you afraid of strangers?”
His eyes are a little wide, framed by pale lashes, when they meet hers.
Is she the same as him inside?
He has to know.
and I'm quick with the bullet when it comes undone
I got a head like a turret with a mouth for a gun