ISKRA
He doesn't stop to consider at first what he's done. He's focused, intent on the axe and its end result, comfortable with her in a way that snapped back into place so easily despite the time, a jigsaw puzzle fitting together. It was a relief, to have quiet in his heart and just move, reaching for jacket folds and drifting along ridges of flame-touched tresses. It's only in that moment before the axe sails and sinks, that he caught the seaside scent of her and became distinctly aware of the minimal space he'd left between them. He withdrew as she bloomed, the certainty he had before fracturing under heavy doubts and old whispers winding insidiously through him.
The gap he reclaimed returned his voice, and he flashed her a grin back in return. "YOU'RE A FAST LEARNER, MY FIRST ATTEMPTS WERE SAD." He leaned down to gather the assorted axes back into the pack, dusting bark off one that was resistant to release. "LET'S HEAD BACK AND GET LUNCH," he offered, thinking of a spot in Snowcloak that served the best sandwiches.
The gap he reclaimed returned his voice, and he flashed her a grin back in return. "YOU'RE A FAST LEARNER, MY FIRST ATTEMPTS WERE SAD." He leaned down to gather the assorted axes back into the pack, dusting bark off one that was resistant to release. "LET'S HEAD BACK AND GET LUNCH," he offered, thinking of a spot in Snowcloak that served the best sandwiches.
Chopping my wood, but this tree’s too hard
Chopping my wood, my axe isn’t sharp
Chopping my wood, split through the heart and it tears me apart
Chopping my wood, my axe isn’t sharp
Chopping my wood, split through the heart and it tears me apart
