|
--~*~--
“Noooooooo….I didn’t mean too… Naaay. No. Don’t leave…Don’t leave me…Please…I need you…”
Sleep has once again ceases to stop her mouth. Dreams were such vivid things. Dreams were such cruel trick to the mind. Scratch that. Nightmares of the past. The rubies shone in the moonlight. Ji got out of her internal slumber, out of her internal penal, out of her little room of torture.
Dreams. That’s what it is and nothing more. Sitting up on her nest of blankets, heavily breathing, cold sweat clumping up her fur, she took a sigh before resting once more. But wait. Something’s amidst. Girl’s calm aura’s in her room, Gear’s sound sleep’s next door, Lah’s vibes are slowly in crescendo, but where’s….Pinkie? Sitting up, she looked around for the clock. Three in the morning. Almost no one’s up right now. But…Why then is Pinkie up and awake? He’d dropped his night owl routine after they came in. But why is he up now? He missed the moon or something?
His presence made it for outside. Suspicious suspicious. Ji threw the blankets off her naked body (she likes sleeping naked…) and made it for the door. But wait…Outside’s cold. Taking a quick detour, she went out into the halls, fully clothed in there regular attire. No one. It’s just her and the halls. She made a quiet quick walk for Pinkie’s aura, his cold dark aura, much like the cold dark creature that nearly tore out Lahiel’s existence away from them. Not hop, walk.
In the past, she was notorious for sneaking around. She was notorious for her skills. A thief she was, in the very early years of her life. But times had changed, but her talent still remains. It was drilled into her, almost literally whipped into her. But that’s a story for another tale.
Silently moving like the counterpart of one’s own shadow, she made it for the door, Pinkie waiting just on the other side. Retreat. He could now feel her presence just as well as she could feel his. Retreat…? No? He went ahead, as if he’d overlooked his surroundings.
An advantage for her. She waited on the corner, making sure the vibes were well off somewhere in the near distance. Why this early wake? To leave to betray? To betray, to leave? No…Don’t jump to conclusions just yet.
Making it for the door, her little hands waved around the brass knob, moving the nugget from within aside and a tiny crack formed between the door and wall. A quick slip and on the other side she was, but oh-
Crap. There was nothing standing between her and his back. He was a far ways off, but what if he turned back any second? A quick slip to the right and she was out of sight, behind the thick trunk of the trees in the backyard. What is he…
A foreign language slipped. A language her ears cannot decipher. What is he… A light shimmered in behind the tree. A dull light, but a light nevertheless. What did he…
“Sister! I-”
“Why…”
This other voice…Who is it? Sister? Was this his sister? But…How? What? But…that book he carried around. A book of spells maybe? A book filled with the secrets and magic and words only he can speak. Correction. Only he and Lah can speak. So…Age summoned her. But…For what?
“Why…did you call me? Why did you pull me away from rapture?”
“Sister, I only--”
“Why Angel? Why…”
Why what? Why what? Ji wants to know! Ji wants to know! Just hurry up and speak! And so Angel was really his name! Now that is confirmed, she could rub it into his face!
“Why…Why did you have to kill him!”
Whoa. Pinkie? Murder? From the brief talking of him during the short stay, he didn’t sound like a guy that would kill. Sure he was with Arceus and sure he would do murder, but the words he spoke with the group made it sound like he won’t hurt a fly. What a hypocrite.
“Why?! Was it because you didn’t want to me to learn the ways of his magic?! Was it because you fear I would become his puppet?! Was it because you fear the spread of the Arcane magic just like the rest of the cruel world?!”
“I—I--”
Ouch. That would hurt. Ji won’t know. She can’t seemed to place herself in his shoes. Not of yet…
“You’re stupid, brother. You know that? You’re stupid! You’re an idiot! A moron! An imbecile! Why?! Why did you kill him?! Why did you kill ME!?”
Whoa. What the…? A shock went through from her spine to her tail. Ji would’ve never see that coming. Ouch…A big owie.
“So—I—it—It was an acc--”
“I hate you…”
There’s the weapon. That weapon that would not only hurt the ears, but the internal organ that keeps life running.
“…Sogni…I-”
“I hate you…” The spirit’s voice gained volume, as if it more than a mere spirit. Human…
“I hate you I hate you I hate you! Damn you to hell! Damn you to the deepest darkest level of hell! I never want to see you again! I never want to see your ugly pink hair every again! I hate you!”
A sad gaze glazed over the ruby eyes. The voice continued screaming. Screaming the same words over and over again, screaming the same chant of damnation over and over. It’s a great wonder that no one woke. It was a wonder that everyone’s sound sleep in the comfort of their bed. It’s a wonder that no one’s here to witness this, or is there others around? Foreign words spoke out, the chatting voice of damnation faded into the winds.
A choke. A fall. A sob. Ji thought men weren’t suppose to reveal emotions, Ji thought men weren’t suppose to cry. It ruins their pride, no? But…Apparently Angel didn’t care for pride. Strange. This cry, these muffle wails of sorrow. Had she heard them before? Had her ears laid on them? Indeed. These were the same sorrowful words she uttered, years ago. They were for the same reason, to express pain, to express fatigue, to express the sheer sorrow that pierced the heart, to express the sheer sorrow over a lost soul.
Should she…No. Let him be. Ji had no right to be here in the first place. It was his private time and his private time only. And yet, she violated it. Slipping from the safety of her covers, she made it to the door, not caring if her presence was felt. For all it seemed, he’s too busy grieving.
She slid through the door, once more as silently as a ghost of the night. Her bunny feet made their way for the halls, made their way back to her warm nest of blankets. Should she tell them? Should she express his grievances to the others? No. it would bring unwanted pain to him. Her feeling for him? Deep inside, she felt great sympathy for him She felt so sorry for his just received pain that she wanted to beg on her knees and cry for the forgiveness of that mischievous deed she’d done to him. No. It was his secret and his secret only. Only he has the right to let the public know of this or not. Ji had no right to meddle in. So the only thing she could do is wear another mask, another mask to the pile of masks she’s acquired in her short lifetime. She’s going to act as if this event never occurred. And to her….
It never even happened.
--~*~--
Spider strings weave by moonlight.
Autumn's breath draws into the recess the blanket has left behind Girl; the tent of her body lain on its side in slumber. Barely breaking her unconsciousness, she sidles further down into the warmth. Another breath, and she begins to stir with the dreamed thought of the window gaping and why she hadn't closed it before she slept.
Something wafts in on the sail's delight. Sound, merely ambiguous murmurs, but the faintest distinct of voices rouse her by the wariness ingrained. A thousand situations can be extracted, especially at this time of night, and most of them would do her favor if she remains supposedly nescient to whomever.
Girl sighs contentedly, and relaxes to brings down her emanation of living. A moment, and she is up to the still obscure mutterings. The backyard. Close but a reasonably nonthreatening distance from her room. Suppressing her presence by remaining wisely within a state of drowsiness, Girl stands and makes her way out the door.
The window, she would have to project her sight and her awareness father out to decipher what is there. Breaking into a vigil mind would alert anyone who can detect the life within, or any empath that would hone into her emotions.
But first of all, Girl checks up on Lahiel. The disembodied voice is not by cause of him, at least not in a conscious state of mind. He is still resting, and she moves on to find source.
"...pull me away from rapture?” Rapture. A thing of elysian fields and yet a name that seemed oddly... fearful. Or something. Who summoned the--
“Sister, I only--” 'Someone's sister, obviously. Now who... wh--Age. That voice.' Desperation, pleading to be heard between his sister's cries. Something that needs to be confessed; or explained.
"Why Angel? Why…" Girl is falling out of the stolid keeping of herself. She portends almost perfectly. 'Something bad is going t--'
“Why…Why did you have to kill him!”
The confirmation is not greeted by lightness in knowing. Girl embodies a grave tone, saying and thinking nothing. Waiting to hear Age's piece.
And it cannot filter through. “Why?! Was it because you didn’t want to me to learn the ways of his magic?! Was it because you fear I would become his puppet?! Was it because you fear the spread of the Arcane magic just like the rest of the cruel world?!” 'Stupid brat.' The accusations, the reviling, deaf to the tone of the judged who's expression is that of confusion and fear and self-doubted indignation. She's sure she's a hypocrite, but the same thing has happened to her far too many times to account for easily. 'Shut up. Shut up!'
From here, without seeing the scene, Age is... not guilty. Isn't he...? She fears his expression being that of held apathy.
“I—I--” It can't be.
“You’re stupid, brother. You know that? You’re stupid! You’re an idiot! A moron! An imbecile! Why?! Why did you kill him?! Why did you kill ME!?” The voice has festered into a paradigm of selfishness for the woman. 'Selfish little girl.' Only the selfish would question their own death. Brat. Stupid little brat. A ghost is of one's last feelings; the moment before death she cursed her brother for killing her. Stupid stupid...
“So—I—it—It was an acc--” An accident. The child knows not why she was killed then it was not deliberate.
On the outside edge of the house, unknowing of Ji's own presence inside at the back door, Girl checks about the corner and finally lays her sight upon the scene.
A certain ghostly evanescence and with Age. He never finished the word of unheard justification, as he was struck silent by the intro of few words. “I hate you…”
She began screaming, Girl's hand twisting and untwisting into a fist.
“I hate you I hate you I hate you! Damn you to hell! Damn you to the deepest darkest level of hell! I never want to see you again! I never want to see your ugly pink hair every again! I hate you!”
Girl should have screamed for silence. The words clawed their way up to the top of her throat and writhed in a newborn fury. She did not, for some reason, say anything, held her burning breath and in ten moments, approached.
Something moves away from the scene, Girl ignores it, Age had murmured the release of the poltergeist to be overtaken by sorrow. The anger dies, and the heat in her chest transits to a wretched cold. Unwanted rain in the bottom of a blackened, burned thing.
Her hand, merely the tips of her fingers, touch barely upon his shoulder. A light, light hand...
--~*~--
Fatigue. Collapse. A choke. A fall. A sob.
The knees collapsed onto he dirt foundation, the hardcover fell limply, exposing the text to the seeing moon. Why are theses tears flowing? Why were these emotions repressed? And foremost, why is it so cold? Age just let the tears flow through his fingers, he just went ahead and let his undead body do on its will. Or is it really the soul attached that’s weeping?
The sobs quailed. Why are these being shed? Because they wanted to? Because realization’s there? Or…For that mistake in the timeline? Or just for that juvenile mistake? Ignorance’s a bliss. That was years ago. He didn’t know any better, nor did she. They didn’t know what they toyed with. They didn’t know what they dealt with, yet…Age felt it was all his fault. He felt he could’ve protected her, he could’ve prevented her death, he could’ve prevented his death… Some damn brother I—
A touch. A light touch at the shoulder. How long was she there? Was she always there? Did she…Hear everything? The little thoughts of the times of yore flittered away, to came again at another time. What does she see in me now?
His voice was still cracked from the brackish solutions, but even so, he managed to piece it together.
“So...You've heard?”
--~*~--
There is nothing to be said. A no would be said only if entirely true and be absolutely stupid. A yes... she isn't sure. The number of times she has comforted someone she would say is countable on a single hand. Incidentally, the number is far greater than she would assume; but notwithstanding, she isn't consciously aware of how to go about this.
To think or not to think.
If she played every step so impossibly deliberate, they would be here in silence for the longest time. Yet at the same, there is no room to be moronic. She would not be callous, for him she cannot be. ((...What does that mean...?)) And it is not as inbred into her character as one would think.
In this pause, her mind has inexplicably removed all previous thought and memory. Girl crouches, resting the gentle hand on his shoulder, not looking at him or away. She faces his general direction, quietly, and then looks at him, seeing his face.
--~*~--
What is it to do? What is it to say? He knew that she knew, but what is she going to do? Nothing.
No thoughts of her doings stirred from within .Just an empty sadness. An empty melancholy caused by his own two hands. An empty sadness that landed him right where he is now. A hand. A warm hand. But it burns. Why? He needed her touch, but then why does it hurt so much? The loneliness, it just grew. Perhaps he believed he didn’t deserve comfort. Perhaps he believed he didn’t deserve forgiveness, understanding. Perhaps, he believed he didn’t deserve anything…
But Age deserved this? An empty cut to the heart? Now that he thought about, maybe he did deserve this weight of sorrow. But what if said event never happened? What if she never learned the dark arts in secret? What if she never died? What if Age never entangled his life with Arceus? What if he wasn’t there at all? Nonexistent. Gone.
Realization.
And embrace to Girl. He felt her unseen eyes trying to look into his. He felt her presence, her seemingly empty presence filled with… Sympathy? Confusion? Pity?
If it wasn’t for that event, he’d never joined Arceus. If he never joined, he’d never saw her. If he never saw her, he’d never saw him. If he never saw him, he won’t have caused his demise. If he never caused his demise, he would’ve never saved him. If he never saved him, he won’t be right here, right now, on his knees, crying…over what? Spilled blood? Maybe the death, in a morbid perverted way, was more than a curse. A bless perhaps, a window to the world, a path for realization, a way to the unseen light.
What would Girl decipher from this embrace? Gratitude? Pity? Insanity? He didn’t care. All Age wanted right now was to hold her, to feel her warmth coursing through his undead body, before it loses all ability to feel.
--~*~--
Girl took him without a trace of flinching, and yet knew not that he would do this.
He leaned into her, and by some indescribable sense of instinct or conjecture in her hazy and perceptive set of mind, she returned it easily. In a vague moment, she slipped both arms around and held, not wanting to smother him or be loose as if she were not there. A slight press, but wherein he could move away at any moment.
But she doesn't want him to run away.
The only thing she would fear... would be his fleeing.
It would mean she were not able to be anything to him. That she also failed at helping alleviate an undeserved encumbrance of guilt. If even just a bit.
She shouldn't expect anything. There is no reason to. There is nothing to be had of her. Save for... she is worse.
What to say..? Everything and nothing. She cannot help... lest questions be asked of her. Then, and only then, could she instill a minute thing of... of hope.
If it came to nothing... Should she tell him her worse faults...?
--~*~--
A return. A legitimate return. Or was it just another occurrence in the alley? This warmth. Was it real? Or was it a trickery placed on his clouded mind? Are they all this warm? So warm that it burns? Or is his mind just playing tricks?
What ever it as, Age didn’t care. No. No more thoughts, no more pain, no more deceit. Perhaps the only way to escape all that is to…
Maybe she knows? Maybe she has an answer to his fret. How could she not? Girl’s a bounty hunter, a killer, a hitman. Umm…Hitwoman….Whatever. But is she the right person to ask? She had taken many lives into the deepest depth of the earth, surely she would know, would she?
The tears still crimpled his voice. Although the rivers have ceased their flow, the tears still clogged up his throat. Tearstained, deceased, he pressed his cheek upon hers, feeling the warm flesh of hers comforting the child within him. Should he, or should her not?
Of all the time he’d been cooped up in childhood, he taught to respect the elders, respect those that have passed onto another realm. He understood why respect should be given to elders, but why so to the dead? They are already gone, so why would they need something not from their realm? Why would they need something from another world?
“…Girl…Is it alright…Not to grief for the dead…Even if one is of your own…?”
--~*~--
He's cold. Very cold.
A little tighter... So he'll be warmer.
"...I think so." Girl murmurs softly. Always a voice of silky black ribbon. "I think it's okay not to... If you mus' force yourself... or if it is painful to do so... I don't think that's right. To have to grieve... no, I don't think anything justifies forced eulogies..." He wouldn't listen to her. She has no credibility to her "name". A hunter, a killer, a murderer, and a monstrosity of it all. She has lived by the dead. She doesn't even believe in grieving the dead for more than a few moments. Less or none if anything allowed.
Those dead should stay dead. The memories of them not to be revenant. To leave them be to the... whatever sort of thing souls go to or don't go to. Unless... Lahiel... he... he was able to come back. All those to can be revived end up having their soul forced back in. One still wouldn't grieve at their disappearance...
"I don't..." What words she says will change nothing, "...believe in grieving the dead... anyway." Nothing to hide; everyone will always remain the same distance away from her with or out without a mask, "The dead should... not be remembered so vividly..." He is no exception, and she ponders if he still cringes at her when they have close run-ins between corners and doors. "The m..." The right words are dying in her throat. Weak, fledgling things. "The memories of them shouldn't be... revived... To let them sleep, or... ah--... s... so they won't have to be wrenched back."
Huh. All she can do is hurt. It will never change. Stupid. Stop talking.
"Because it usually hurts... everyone."
--~*~--
It’s ok? It’s alright?
Her arms constricted around his frame. It feels so warm. Like a warm sleep in a cold winter night. He wanted to stay with her like this forever. Forever and ever until sunlight melts his soul into the ground. But her words, they were…Strange. They have this mixture of comfort and warmth, but yet hardness and chills. Maybe there’s something wrong with his ears.
Forced pain’s…Not right? Nothing’s justifies the pressed beliefs of worship? Makes sense, no? Maybe it’s because he’s deciphering her words in a different way. But for the sake of understanding, he does sees some truth in it.
She doesn’t believe. Why? She just said. Made sense though. Maybe his mind’s deciphering the message differently. Maybe his mind sees what her words were not intentionally saying. Remembering these departed…Is nothing more then a heavy burden? Is nothing more then a simple way to remain trapped? Nothing but a way to remember the pain?
“Thank you…” He withdrew from her grasp, just so enough that his face rested a single foot for her. He dare not look into her faceless face, not yet. He went for her yet again. This time, there was more meaning to it than a simple distraction, it was more than a simple gimmick to use for his personal freedom. In fact, it meant naught any of those at all. It was just his way…To show gratitude…
Now his decade old reason for living was nothing more than dust, dust that just flew into the winds of this cold midnight morning. Now what? Now there’s nothing for him to live for. Or is there?
--~*~--
The meager murmur of quiet surprise lasts for just a moment.
Rigidity. No, not embodying her or voiding her body.
Warmth. Girl's bit warmer. Just a slight.
Addling, muddling but from behind a haze. Her head. She feels a bit funny. No laughing, though; that's not present.
A moment. Her eyes are darkening. The sight of the world, of him, is fading in vividity. To his touch...? She doesn't feel faint, or the ground closing in. Oh, her eyes are closing as they do... somewhat closing. This second time. It's pleasant.
'W-wait.'
Her sluggish sleeping heart-rate pulses up in her throat.
'He's k...' Her aura is hot and obvious as a flame at this precise time of morning. The bemusement perplexing her before rises into bafflement. '...Wha?!' He'll pull away very, very soon. To rush off to bed, and she would never figure this out. Never.
But it's nice; in its entirety. The cold of a corpse goes fully unnoticed. It is just he, Age, a vampire.
Reality and this unlikely scenario suffuse into a blank-inducing, dream-drunk intoxicant. Her mind is unshakably inebriated by this cocktail, questioning every moment previous again and again for sufficient detail of existence.
What's happening again? An overlying thought rolls up to the surface of the bowl of thought through the bleary, hardly sane or sober fusillade; Age would leave soon and leave her in bewilderment.
--~*~--
She did not recoil? She did not push him away? For sure he thought the second time around, she would do something to prevent the same mistakes committed. Although, it was not committed so as a plan for escape, as mentioned before, nor will it ever.
Is this how it’s suppose to feel? This warmth, happiness that words cannot express? This feathery feeling to the heart, this captivating feeling that was yet exploded into that flood in the heart? Age wondered…Did Girl feel this too?
Perhaps, maybe. But a slight warmth of her physical metabolism and the fiery burn of her aura said enough. But…No more thoughts. He just wanted to enjoy this moment to the very last second.
The very last second came. He wanted this encounter to last a bit longer, but nothing last forever. He could make it last forever, but what if someone sees? At the dead of night no one’s up. But the priority was, maybe Girl’s confounded. Maybe Girl had her mind throw into space, depleted of any sort of logic, any sort of stand on earth, any sort of thought. Shame was already brought on her with his first escape with lips, but a second would bring shame on him. But…Age didn’t want to leave her. Not yet. Just a little longer…
He broke the contract. But even so, he stayed. To linger about the warm aura, just a while longer. His forehead pressed against hers. Strange. Were they all this warm? Do all humans carry that lantern of light no matter where they go? Or is sleep getting the better of him?
Age set his eyes upon hers. The sluggish hue of the cursed eye lingered in the plains betwixt a deep violet and scorching magenta. Was his eyes deceiving him? Did he really laid eyes on the deep dark mysterious inky orbs of hers? Or was sleep playing tricks on him?
Is she real? A cold hand pressed on a single cheek, caressing it to confirm that this was not a dream. Was it? Maybe that interlocking with flesh had completely melted his mind into mush.
“Are you sure you’re faceless?” He could’ve sworn he saw the black pearls that are which of her eyes. He could’ve sworn he felt her ‘nonexistent’ lips pressed against his. He could’ve sworn he felt her breath increased for that slight moment in time. He could’ve sworn…
Maybe sleep’s playing tricks on him.
--~*~--
A subtle hint of nodding is halted to say, "Yes."
And there it went. All gone to leave her wondering if it was a figment beyond that obscuring, fuliginous opacity. She ruminates over it, feeling as though she missed a moment in time. As if it'd been warped, twisted away in an inefficient slur of blanking white.
It would be rude (not so much caring for the rudeness, actually) to ask if he'd just kissed her; especially if he didn't. The dream-drunk sedative on her brain has lifted somewhat, and so suddenly the confusion settles into solid inquisition.
'What just happened...? Did I just...?'
No. He must not have kissed her. Silly thought; and she burns abashedly by it, unable to keep her emanation from the like.
--~*~--
Her head pressed, just slightly, an abrupt stop to her impulsive move. A simple single syllable slipped. That’s it? Nothing more?
Maybe he’d freaked her out once more? Maybe that little gift was nothing more but an empty package. An empty kiss that meant nothing. But it didn’t mean nothing to him. It meant almost everything. Even the meaning of life, which was now founded within that short time span.
Oh well. You can’t please them all. Nor can send one into the same light-hearted sensation. Maybe Girl felt nothing while Age felt…Everything. Maybe…Maybe she’s still trying to grasp it. Maybe her mind slothfully ‘s trying to interpret the warmth. But what would she find after she’s done with it?
Time to leave. A single star on the farthest edge of the sky just died out. Night as well get back and pretended nothing of this every happen. Time to put on a mask once more for the little children to see. Although, they didn’t see much in it.
Pulling away, his hand outstretched for the midnight purple, propped open as if waiting for a line to be read. But Age stopped. There was something there on the pages that jab a small feeling of fear. A small jab at something that left a scar on the path to life. A red hour glass rested on the black plump belly of the creature. What a vein thing. Laying snuggly there as if it owned the volume now. All because the two were indulged in their own comfort and meeting.
“Umm…Girl. Can you get my book for me…Please…?”
--~*~--
"Huh? Yeah." Girl turns, reaching back for the volume, before seeing the same and letting the hand retract.
A black widow has perched itself between the lines of the incantations, and is either dead or in a state of slumber, for it is not moving. It must have fallen off the branches from above; most of the maids won't like this.
She takes a moment, and lowers herself to a closer level with the pages. Her silent breath carries across the parchment, gently, slowly and warm. At the touching of hot air, the spider writhes and turns over. It still stays, perhaps in a groggy awakened mood, and her breath ran thin. Girl quietly retrieves more air and inaudibly sighs again over the text.
The widow scurries away in a flurry of legs, fearing for her life at the predatory signal. Girl rises, checking over the edge of the binding and giving a brief puff to send it away, and picks up the book.
"Here." She closes it in a muffled, bloated thump of heavy sheets.
Her eyes weren't closed. She can't have been dreaming. The need to understand and for once not let this go bubbles words before she can think clearly, "Uhm, Age?" 'Don't say--no, wait, say something. It can't be that bad of a question--no, I don't want to, er, ruin what relation--what relationship? I'm thinking crazier than usual. There isn't a... no, there--we're at least frien--...Ah, uhm--'
"I don't... I think I was sleeping... or dreaming... but did we... di'... kiss?" 'Oh, god. What the hell? That's goddamn ******** creepy-th' hell I would say that for? Oh, god ******** dammit... Fix it! Do something! Make it less worse than what it already is!'
"Ah, I don't... know, I just came out of some sort of... I feel all... dazed..." Girl is trying to remain neutral in standing on this. If it were not real, it would be entirely strange and disturbing of her to be saying such things. If it were, by the most unlikely chance (her whole world has reminded her of such), she wouldn't want to be accidentally cold to him.
For now, worry and fear radiate in the heat of mistake's mortification, pulsing off her mind and body like a crackling flare.
--~*~--
A meek smile. A slight nod of appreciation.
His eyes wander to the maiden as she worked her magic. In no way will Age ever have the courage to stand ground with these creatures. His fear for these multi-legged creatures was not something of the unexplained, but that’s for another time.
Age took a while’s stare at the scene, but not to the ancient scribbles or the little black blotch but at... At least she didn’t just flat out decline to help him out. Even if he was a man. Even though he had the capacity to help himself, even though he could easily deal the little creature that nearly whisked him away from the planes of the living, but. Perhaps he’s living up to his slothful nature.
A gust of warm air finally placed the blotch’s life in jeopardy, leaving it to the only option of fleeing. He watched the little think run away. Back to its home in the rose bush, back to the safety of its foliage. Lucky. What a lucky thing to have a home to wander into, a home to rest forever. Lucky. What a lucky thing to be short-lived, enduring nothing of that time brings. Lucky lucky lucky…
The offer of the book. He took it with a hand, but something Girl’s left the volume in the middle of the fingers. She wanted to ask something? But what is there to ask?
That? Confusion hits Age. As always. Why…Why did she think this was a dream? Did she thought the embracement of lips was nothing but a mere mirage? Nothing but an empty suction to air? Or was she in denial?
Either way, something…hurts. Right there. In his chest. Nothing of physical pain, nor a malfunction in his transformation, but something else. Something much more…deep. But more words ushered out of her. Words that were desperately trying to turn that golden key the other way, desperately trying to bandage that tiny crack in time. No matter. What’s done is done.
Lack of sleep hinders sanity…
How to answer this? To say straight out “Yeah, we kissed”? Hide it behind a veil? Shove it under the rug and pretended it never happened? I dunno…
“Do you want to hear what you want to hear, or do you want hear what really happened?” What really did happened anyways?
--~*~--
A pang of surprisingly abysmal fear hits Girl, emptying something in her to a black space. Breathlessly she says, "What..." but for only a moment before scraping together something else.
"The truth--What I want... to hear is the truth..." Age thinks she wants to hear a certain answer; she doesn't, and now worry is spinning into dread for what she has done.
Even if the faceless knows not what she has done, she knows anguish. Through years of suffering it became one sense of intuition behind her, true traces in others eventually to be picked up effortlessly. Yet it remained such a subconscious tendency, the only indications it gives her are inhibited, brumous malformations of unconscious hints. Usually far too weak for her to know herself. Other times they rose all too strongly and without explanation. Now would be one time of strength.
Her fingers tighten on the book to the painful realization of hurting him. She hadn't meant to, and doesn't know why it's worrying her to the point of trembling. A faint shudder in the muscles is released from tension, so there will be no visible shaking.
Girl makes several undetectable efforts to speak, swallowing the void of words for the lack of anything but...
--~*~--
What?
The truth? The sheer pure unadulterated truth? But…How? Words. Words were needed, but yet words did not come. Why?
The pain. It hurts. It hurts. Why is this pain here? It is here to say something? Or show enlighten? Or to pull a cruel trick. Age just gave a rather blank stare at the faceless woman. What an unfortunate, or fortunate, sight is was that she lacked a face. If he were to see her twisted face, he would’ve known which path to trend on. But…She lacks all the ability or show emotions. The only way he’d know was through her words and actions.
Oh why must she be without facial expression? What to say? Will the truth make her worst then she already is, or will it quell the beast and soften the pain?
Just say it. What more do I have to lose? Her heart?...But….She never gave it away…
“Yeah…We kissed…” How will she take this?
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