you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
Maybe it is sappy. Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s all made up somewhere in his poetic yet well groomed head. Or maybe it was his truth – that he’d never truly had a home as a place to be, but rather the people around that made it as such. He was never truly home in Whitebrim. He was never truly home in the Climb. Even his name that she knows him by, isn’t the one he was born with.
So why wouldn’t he leave it all behind if he could?
“Perhaps.” He says with an overly dramatic, whimsical sigh, letting his grin tug at the familiar smile wrinkles in his tanned face, peering at her as he rests his cheek on a propped up fist. It’s the softness of her voice next that distracts him, wanting to glean something deeper than this pretense, and perhaps opening up his past to her might be the way of getting it in return. So when she says he’s lucky, it’s with a knowing smile and a glint in his gaze that he chuckles his agreement.
A slow nod, while his head still remains propped. “I do hope my luck is not running out. It seems to be a common thread between the places I have been.” He muses playfully, before his smile softens a touch and he regards her, filtering through everything in his mind of their interactions, trying to piece together whether or not they’d spoken of it before. “I do not wish to be so bold, so of course tell me to fuck off if I am encroaching… But, do you? Miss it, that is.” Home, which he still wasn’t sure of where she came from, but feeling compelled to ask regardless.
So why wouldn’t he leave it all behind if he could?
“Perhaps.” He says with an overly dramatic, whimsical sigh, letting his grin tug at the familiar smile wrinkles in his tanned face, peering at her as he rests his cheek on a propped up fist. It’s the softness of her voice next that distracts him, wanting to glean something deeper than this pretense, and perhaps opening up his past to her might be the way of getting it in return. So when she says he’s lucky, it’s with a knowing smile and a glint in his gaze that he chuckles his agreement.
A slow nod, while his head still remains propped. “I do hope my luck is not running out. It seems to be a common thread between the places I have been.” He muses playfully, before his smile softens a touch and he regards her, filtering through everything in his mind of their interactions, trying to piece together whether or not they’d spoken of it before. “I do not wish to be so bold, so of course tell me to fuck off if I am encroaching… But, do you? Miss it, that is.” Home, which he still wasn’t sure of where she came from, but feeling compelled to ask regardless.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
