DON'T KNOW HOW TO KEEP LOVING YOU
NOW THAT I KNOW YOU SO WELL
Ever since Garett caused Mako's heart to race, the frost-wearer has not been able to get her head out of the clouds. She thinks of him often: the gentle blend of his green and brown fur, the plants that come when he calls, the buzz of his skin when she brushed it with hers. He was perfect, she tells herself--so easily idealized as a first crush.
Though often alone, still, the thought of another such encounter warms her. Leaves an energetic fizzing in her bones.
Now, among bright blue and pink and purple summertime blooms, Mako smiles secretly to herself. She looks like she fits here, laying lazily among the flower. The frost that adorns her glimmers, the of her hide periwinkle shines, and her eyes--her eyes shine with the palest, freshest green. A nymph, she thinks. Different from the fiery, deadly legacy that calls her. And she has Garett to thank for putting such an idea in her head.
The sun shines brightly overhead, warming Mako's side as she rolls. Splayed out, legs stretched and head buried in the grass, she relaxes. Perhaps a nap, she thinks, certain that no one will dare interrupt her while she sleeps in a common land.
quote goes here when I am feeling creative
The seasons have shifted and the meadow is shining in a summertime bloom when Garett finds Mako once more. He thought of her with every storm that rumbled through the sky, every crackle of lightning and crash of thunder. He still fears the storms and the violence they bring but there is a sweetness to them now as he recalls the haven they found in the forest. When he thinks of the wild-but-kind girl who loved them so much.
He has hoped every day since they parted that he could see her again.
This afternoon is different than the one they had met on. Today the sky is clear and bright and though he had thought Mako seemed at home in a storm, the way she glitters among the flowers is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
When he sees her, there’s a flutter in his heart that he mistakes for fear. Perhaps part of it is fear - fear that despite her sweet words she did not look back on their meeting with the same fondness that he had been. If only he weren’t too kind to use his mind-reading (and if only he knew that he had the ability to read minds other than his twin brother’s) he would not feel these doubts.
Before he can hesitate any longer, he calls out her name and trots over to close the distance between them - a smile already shining in his spring-green eyes.
wylbir and clove