DESPOINA
If she were to know the true extent of his abilities, she might laugh until she could no longer breathe. She may actually break in half over the irony, the cruel humor. That he who feasted on negative emotions would ever find himself near her who was practically sorrow manifest. He could gorge on her sorrow every day. Feast on it until there was nothing else to fill his swollen belly. And she would still have more to give. She could show him her throat and he could drink eternally, a well that would never run dry,
But of course she doesn’t know such things.
She doesn’t know why the longer she is near him, the more she loves him and the more it pains her. Is it another twist of luck that his presence brings such a bad omen of it? Is her bad luck to love him?
She doesn’t know. Can’t know. Would never think to guess.
So she lives instead suspended in the pain, that acute agony of loving something forever out of reach.
She twists her wolfish head when he approaches and there is so little of her in that look. The eyes that narrow when he doesn’t shift. It is easier to find the anger in this form. Easier to succumb to the darkness that is her birthright, and she finds the she likes the anchoring feeling of wrath. How much more empowering to be furious than to despair. How strong she feels when she gnashes her teeth in rage.
“Trying to not think of you,” her usually melodic voice is harsher when coming through her canines, her tail hanging low behind her. She can almost convince herself that it is not her speaking. That she is someone else who is not broken by the thing in the shadows who finds other things more fitting.
She grimaces and pulls back as if she could escape the shadows that pull forward on the ground.
“I am being largely unsuccessful.”
Once, she would have applauded herself for being so direct. For being so forward. Once, she lived entirely in the darkness and was content to be meek. To be invisible. But the truth is that she knows this is short-lived. She is still weak. The truth of her is not this hellhound that she clings to and the strength that exists only within it. The truth of her is the sad blue girl who will chase after him even if she drives him away.
I guess the sound of your voice in the aching will just have to do
@Torryn