07-19-2020, 11:36 PM
“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.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” and this time she cannot hide the crestfallen look on her face before she manages to will it away, though the bruised look in her quiet eyes remains. She cannot find it in herself to be mad at him when she knows that this – the way that she feels, the way she is so close to falling apart – is her own doing. It was rare for her to let herself think she meant anything to anyone. It wasn’t like her to slowly begin to let her guard down around someone like Atrox, the way that she has.
She remembers now, with stark clarity, why she doesn’t.
And she knows that she cannot blame him for behaving exactly as he always has, as she has always known him to be. It had been a mistake on her part to expect anything else.
She is already retreating from him – physically, by taking a step back, and emotionally, by drawing back into herself – when he delivers a blow she hadn't been expecting. She doesn't know if it's the actual act of what he did, or the fact that he is using it like a weapon on purpose, but it doesn't change the way that his words feel like a blade between her ribs. It makes her suck in a sharp breath, makes her eyes flicker to his face faster than she would have liked. “But you don't even like Agetta,” she finds herself saying, disbelieving and dull.
The panic that she can feel squeezing at her chest is alarming. She can't remember the last time she was overcome by such an overwhelming urge to run – to leave, to disappear. She quells it, or pretends to at least, with a forced smile, and an artfully placed mask that she has not had to wear in years – not since Dhumin and Sage, lifetimes ago. “At least you two get along now,” she holds his gaze with hers, unwavering despite the tempest of emotions brewing inside of her chest, despite the fact that she knows that once she leaves this conversation, she is not coming back.
She remembers now, with stark clarity, why she doesn’t.
And she knows that she cannot blame him for behaving exactly as he always has, as she has always known him to be. It had been a mistake on her part to expect anything else.
She is already retreating from him – physically, by taking a step back, and emotionally, by drawing back into herself – when he delivers a blow she hadn't been expecting. She doesn't know if it's the actual act of what he did, or the fact that he is using it like a weapon on purpose, but it doesn't change the way that his words feel like a blade between her ribs. It makes her suck in a sharp breath, makes her eyes flicker to his face faster than she would have liked. “But you don't even like Agetta,” she finds herself saying, disbelieving and dull.
The panic that she can feel squeezing at her chest is alarming. She can't remember the last time she was overcome by such an overwhelming urge to run – to leave, to disappear. She quells it, or pretends to at least, with a forced smile, and an artfully placed mask that she has not had to wear in years – not since Dhumin and Sage, lifetimes ago. “At least you two get along now,” she holds his gaze with hers, unwavering despite the tempest of emotions brewing inside of her chest, despite the fact that she knows that once she leaves this conversation, she is not coming back.
ryatah