I will be your lighthouse
Immortal. That was an instant relief to the wild ache of his worst thoughts and greatest fears. It stilled the squeezing of the cotton in his hand before he tossed it to her, and it seemed to break the storm. The ground was still windswept though, and some flooding remained pooled in the more recessed areas that was the terrain of Iskra's heart. Immortal. She'd outlive him then. Long beyond him, and he'd crumble away from her memories as they stretched on and he became nothing more than an iota of dust on the long trail of the mantle of her existence.
Good. She did not need him. She needed to live, and forever seemed exactly the right amount of time for her.
"Yeah, I know. Because then it'd be our crimes." There's a ghost of a grin. An attempt at an apology wrapped in a joke. Let's pull back, and try again the lines against his cheeks quietly begged. Were he braver, he might have done more, but Iskra could not risk exposing more of himself today than he already had. Even this would all sting later when it began to knit over itself and sink into the pool of his memories.
As if of a shared mind, Mel did similar, but as usual, she was willing to risk more to accomplish something better. Her chin slipped against his shoulder like it was meant to be there. As if the dip and fold of his muscle had crafted itself into a nook designed for the contours of her jaw. Something in him caught, most likely a lung on a rib, as he felt like the entire world just ground to a halt except all the bits inside of him that floated up and slammed against his bones. The pause, a terrified gasp of time, relented into a flutter of acceptance, of wholeness. Had he been missing this piece of himself for so long that he'd forgotten she was part of him?
"I can bring oil so it'll burn faster."
Good. She did not need him. She needed to live, and forever seemed exactly the right amount of time for her.
"Yeah, I know. Because then it'd be our crimes." There's a ghost of a grin. An attempt at an apology wrapped in a joke. Let's pull back, and try again the lines against his cheeks quietly begged. Were he braver, he might have done more, but Iskra could not risk exposing more of himself today than he already had. Even this would all sting later when it began to knit over itself and sink into the pool of his memories.
As if of a shared mind, Mel did similar, but as usual, she was willing to risk more to accomplish something better. Her chin slipped against his shoulder like it was meant to be there. As if the dip and fold of his muscle had crafted itself into a nook designed for the contours of her jaw. Something in him caught, most likely a lung on a rib, as he felt like the entire world just ground to a halt except all the bits inside of him that floated up and slammed against his bones. The pause, a terrified gasp of time, relented into a flutter of acceptance, of wholeness. Had he been missing this piece of himself for so long that he'd forgotten she was part of him?
"I can bring oil so it'll burn faster."
Iskra
