I will be your lighthouse
He stilled in his abashed attempts to scrub the residue from his pants. As if he'd just encountered something rare, he froze, his breath held behind his teeth for fear that even that noise would rupture the quiet of the moment and ruin the impossible find. Like a living creature, her laughter moved around him, rested upon him, settled into him. Water to parched soil, it nourished the portions of him that had become faded and frail. It was a light that chased back the darkness with its fierceness, a warmth that won out over the cold in its kindness, and he ached for it. It had been some time since he'd heard it, longer yet that he was its source, intended or not.
He smiled then, remembering what it was not to be so broken, and more importantly, not to be so destructive.
So he eased, the hard words choked out and pulled back in, the edges smoother with each tide in and out of him. Yet her question left him poised to falter once more, his cracks still visible beneath the glue he was desperately piecing himself back together with, the glue she was handing him. "I uh—not much." he admitted. Not enough part of him insisted, the glow of her laughter dimmed with time, letting the darkness fold back in. "I mean, I'm here, looking for flowers. I've yet to find any though." The story of most who searched these woods, but in the weight of all his other failures, it felt like another curse laid upon him. "I still work up in Halo—logging mostly. Something steady. Honest." It was something, wasn't it? He had a home, he had a job. He was trying, usually.
His lips pressed together at her pointed rebuke. "I know," he acquiesced, huffing softly. "But I think I'm done. Running." He said it softly, like a promise he wasn’t sure he had the right to make—but wanted to believe in anyway.
He glanced at Goose as the dog had finished vacuuming up his mistake and flopped next to his newly acquired duck. He rubbed the back of his neck, shame curling beneath his skin. Selfish, as always. "What about you?" he asked, finally lifting his eyes. "There’s gotta be a lot to this new… demi-god status?"
He smiled then, remembering what it was not to be so broken, and more importantly, not to be so destructive.
So he eased, the hard words choked out and pulled back in, the edges smoother with each tide in and out of him. Yet her question left him poised to falter once more, his cracks still visible beneath the glue he was desperately piecing himself back together with, the glue she was handing him. "I uh—not much." he admitted. Not enough part of him insisted, the glow of her laughter dimmed with time, letting the darkness fold back in. "I mean, I'm here, looking for flowers. I've yet to find any though." The story of most who searched these woods, but in the weight of all his other failures, it felt like another curse laid upon him. "I still work up in Halo—logging mostly. Something steady. Honest." It was something, wasn't it? He had a home, he had a job. He was trying, usually.
His lips pressed together at her pointed rebuke. "I know," he acquiesced, huffing softly. "But I think I'm done. Running." He said it softly, like a promise he wasn’t sure he had the right to make—but wanted to believe in anyway.
He glanced at Goose as the dog had finished vacuuming up his mistake and flopped next to his newly acquired duck. He rubbed the back of his neck, shame curling beneath his skin. Selfish, as always. "What about you?" he asked, finally lifting his eyes. "There’s gotta be a lot to this new… demi-god status?"
Iskra
