Nova
Here's to alcohol,
If everyone lies, how is she supposed to know what's true or not? She's not a telepath or a cynic like Vesper, and Nova clings to the hope that it can't be as bad as he says, but there's no way for her to know. There's only one person she knows for sure and her head hangs a little lower as she admits, "I don't lie." At least not in the ways that matter. Is she all alone on her little island of truthfulness? Is that why he thinks people will take advantage of her? They'd already been the result of a bargain, could there be anything worse?
His words keep her heart heavy, the shimmering of her thoughts somber and serious as they weigh against the bright personality that begs to burst from beneath, to be free in its naivety and unencumbered worldview. She tries her best to understand - she really does - but the idea feels so dark that it's nearly suffocating. The pink of her sleeve looks dimmer that before, the sparkles not as bright, the enjoyment of it dampened by the question of whether people will ever be real.
The grin on his face briefly breaks through the shadowy veil, her eyes lifting cautiously to meet his. Sex still isn't something she's tried, but Vespy's comment stirs a patch of glitter in the back of her mind, a curiosity despite the small wrinkle of her nose. The return of his playful tone eases some of the tensions, a glint of a smile trying to peek through before he's rushing back into all the reasons she'd been wrong - the overwhelming weight slipping back into place, her eyes falling again.
His reassurance is enough to give her space to breathe, even as she still feels the pressure of the conversation still pushing against the back of her eyes. "I am sharper than them. I have claws and teeth - and wings now, by the way - and my magic is getting stronger, and I know how to punch..." Each addition bolsters her confidence a little more, her shoulders steeling like the stubborn internal supports have been erected again. "And I'm not dumb." There's a wobble on the last bit, a shred of uncertainty that she does her best to clamp down with an angry pout.
His words keep her heart heavy, the shimmering of her thoughts somber and serious as they weigh against the bright personality that begs to burst from beneath, to be free in its naivety and unencumbered worldview. She tries her best to understand - she really does - but the idea feels so dark that it's nearly suffocating. The pink of her sleeve looks dimmer that before, the sparkles not as bright, the enjoyment of it dampened by the question of whether people will ever be real.
The grin on his face briefly breaks through the shadowy veil, her eyes lifting cautiously to meet his. Sex still isn't something she's tried, but Vespy's comment stirs a patch of glitter in the back of her mind, a curiosity despite the small wrinkle of her nose. The return of his playful tone eases some of the tensions, a glint of a smile trying to peek through before he's rushing back into all the reasons she'd been wrong - the overwhelming weight slipping back into place, her eyes falling again.
His reassurance is enough to give her space to breathe, even as she still feels the pressure of the conversation still pushing against the back of her eyes. "I am sharper than them. I have claws and teeth - and wings now, by the way - and my magic is getting stronger, and I know how to punch..." Each addition bolsters her confidence a little more, her shoulders steeling like the stubborn internal supports have been erected again. "And I'm not dumb." There's a wobble on the last bit, a shred of uncertainty that she does her best to clamp down with an angry pout.
the rose-colored glasses of life.
