I will be your lighthouse
Her honey had hardened over time. It encased her more like crystallised amber now, hard and angled. It was still beautiful, still smooth in some areas, but it was more akin to fire than water now, all semblance of fluidity erased with weathering. Iskra had realized more and more, with each moment of their rare encounters, that he no longer knew the girl who smelled like honey that he'd run down sun-kissed beaches with. All this time, he'd put the world on pause. He'd needed just one, gentle moment to grieve, and then he could go back out and play in the ocean spray. Except, it had been years, and he had not frozen time for anyone but himself, and they had passed all around him. He had remained, just one foot out of his childhood, the memories dancing in his mind as if it was just yesterday and not a decade ago. He knew, of course, he was not utterly delusional. At least his mind knew. His heart was another matter, and it thundered at her ire, something he didn't recall she'd ever been able to call forth before.
He didn't know her any more, but he'd like to.
Oblivious to Goose's antics, Iskra spun his hands around the kindling, his fire magic leaping eagerly to consume the timber. "Ah, that's what it is." He smiled up at her, surprise still there in the lift of his 'brows. A demi-god, this little girl who's laugh could inspire the world? He shook his head faintly, awed at what she'd accomplished, the power she'd amassed, as he cracked some eggs into the pot. The wonder slowly faded to neutrality, as Iskra could not ignore the rancor any longer. He had been searching for how to explain it, but he'd resigned himself to the fact he had no easy answer to give her, fewer still he thought she could understand. Look at her, then look at him. She'd gone and made something of herself. She had taken whatever challenges rose against her and she had smothered them. Iskra himself was barely breathing.
He assembled a few thicker sticks into a grid nearby the pot and threw a few pieces of bread on there. "I don't know how to tell you." He said it gently, no longer able to look at her, so he watched the food meticulously. "I don't think you would understand."
He didn't know her any more, but he'd like to.
Oblivious to Goose's antics, Iskra spun his hands around the kindling, his fire magic leaping eagerly to consume the timber. "Ah, that's what it is." He smiled up at her, surprise still there in the lift of his 'brows. A demi-god, this little girl who's laugh could inspire the world? He shook his head faintly, awed at what she'd accomplished, the power she'd amassed, as he cracked some eggs into the pot. The wonder slowly faded to neutrality, as Iskra could not ignore the rancor any longer. He had been searching for how to explain it, but he'd resigned himself to the fact he had no easy answer to give her, fewer still he thought she could understand. Look at her, then look at him. She'd gone and made something of herself. She had taken whatever challenges rose against her and she had smothered them. Iskra himself was barely breathing.
He assembled a few thicker sticks into a grid nearby the pot and threw a few pieces of bread on there. "I don't know how to tell you." He said it gently, no longer able to look at her, so he watched the food meticulously. "I don't think you would understand."
Iskra
