02-15-2021, 02:04 PM
( MY DAYDREAMS LOVE THE VIOLENT COLOR OF YOUR LIPS
AND THE NIGHTMARES THAT ACCOMPANY IT )
AND THE NIGHTMARES THAT ACCOMPANY IT )
Not her father, the voice calls, but not something else either.
Her father had told her that the things in the darkness did not have voices, at least not the kind of voices they could decipher. They did not speak in plain language. They certainly would not have introduced themselves, she thinks, and she lets this thought soothe her even if she would have preferred if the voice belonged to her father himself.
The colt swims out of the darkness and she sucks in a sharp breath, consumed suddenly by a visceral shyness. He is closer to her age than anyone else she has ever met, which seems like a thing she should be embarrassed about. Will he think her strange? There are other children in Pangea, certainly, but her father is so fiercely protective of his daughters, acutely aware of how fragile they are. And the girl is so wary of tearing herself away from the comfort of the river’s shore anyway.
She is so thoroughly distracted by these thoughts that she almost forgets her fear entirely. Forgets that she had been meant to be frightened, panicked, frantic to get back to her father, and thoroughly confused by whatever trick he had played on her that had carried her so far away from him.
So thoroughly distracted, too, that it takes her several seconds to respond to all of the things the colt has said. She swallows thickly and shakes her head, “no, he’s not a dragon. He’s made of glass.” There is no reason for her to volunteer this information except that it might explain how she came to be made of porcelain.
“I’m Amathea,” she tells him then, heat pooling in her pale cheeks, “I think my dad has played a trick on me and I need to get back to him.” It does not occur to her that Volos does not live in Pangea, she is only vaguely aware of the other children in the desert and has never actually met any of them. For all she knows, he is one of them. So it does not occur to her that she is being unreasonable when she asks, “can you help me?”
Her father had told her that the things in the darkness did not have voices, at least not the kind of voices they could decipher. They did not speak in plain language. They certainly would not have introduced themselves, she thinks, and she lets this thought soothe her even if she would have preferred if the voice belonged to her father himself.
The colt swims out of the darkness and she sucks in a sharp breath, consumed suddenly by a visceral shyness. He is closer to her age than anyone else she has ever met, which seems like a thing she should be embarrassed about. Will he think her strange? There are other children in Pangea, certainly, but her father is so fiercely protective of his daughters, acutely aware of how fragile they are. And the girl is so wary of tearing herself away from the comfort of the river’s shore anyway.
She is so thoroughly distracted by these thoughts that she almost forgets her fear entirely. Forgets that she had been meant to be frightened, panicked, frantic to get back to her father, and thoroughly confused by whatever trick he had played on her that had carried her so far away from him.
So thoroughly distracted, too, that it takes her several seconds to respond to all of the things the colt has said. She swallows thickly and shakes her head, “no, he’s not a dragon. He’s made of glass.” There is no reason for her to volunteer this information except that it might explain how she came to be made of porcelain.
“I’m Amathea,” she tells him then, heat pooling in her pale cheeks, “I think my dad has played a trick on me and I need to get back to him.” It does not occur to her that Volos does not live in Pangea, she is only vaguely aware of the other children in the desert and has never actually met any of them. For all she knows, he is one of them. So it does not occur to her that she is being unreasonable when she asks, “can you help me?”
amathea
@[Volos] my dumb ass used the wrong table the first time so you might get two tags from me lmao