// and all my flowers grew back as thorns //
“So many.” Thorn agrees with a sigh, drawing silent because he’s a very good listener. The breeze is gentle when she answers him, says she doesn’t wish love on anyone, and while he’d had his own little quiet fantasies of falling in love (as most people did), he hears her concerns. It builds, like she’s laying the foundation to reveal the grand museum to display each and every reason she wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Each portion revealing more and more than the previous one, building blocks to build the story. And he hurts for her, in the way he can hear it in her voice – of all the things that spark and take from her, wondering for a moment what she was like before it happened. Before she’d given up portions of herself to be lost, of settling because it was easier.
Thorn might not have been in love, but he did understand that. The sheen of water glimpsed in her eyes and the shakiness to her breaths, and Thorn doesn’t care if she needs a moment to cry or if she doesn’t want to feel whatever kind of shame she can make up for it. He knows it’s important to loosen the bottle of emotions lest they explode, so the courtesan does what he knows best. He helps in the only way he knows how to. “You sacrificed a lot, y’know? But did he?” He asks quietly – not giving her much of a chance to respond to it as he pushes off the rail and invades her space, winding his warm arms around her in a tight hug, tucking her face into his glittering shoulder to hide any tears from anyone that might come out and see.
She’d done all of those things for her love, to be considerate and caring, but from where Thorn’s standing it sounds entirely one sided. What did he sacrifice for her when she gave so much to him? "'m sorry, Colt."
Each portion revealing more and more than the previous one, building blocks to build the story. And he hurts for her, in the way he can hear it in her voice – of all the things that spark and take from her, wondering for a moment what she was like before it happened. Before she’d given up portions of herself to be lost, of settling because it was easier.
Thorn might not have been in love, but he did understand that. The sheen of water glimpsed in her eyes and the shakiness to her breaths, and Thorn doesn’t care if she needs a moment to cry or if she doesn’t want to feel whatever kind of shame she can make up for it. He knows it’s important to loosen the bottle of emotions lest they explode, so the courtesan does what he knows best. He helps in the only way he knows how to. “You sacrificed a lot, y’know? But did he?” He asks quietly – not giving her much of a chance to respond to it as he pushes off the rail and invades her space, winding his warm arms around her in a tight hug, tucking her face into his glittering shoulder to hide any tears from anyone that might come out and see.
She’d done all of those things for her love, to be considerate and caring, but from where Thorn’s standing it sounds entirely one sided. What did he sacrifice for her when she gave so much to him? "'m sorry, Colt."
THORN
