COLT
I'm homesick for somewhere that doesn't exist
For someone I'm still learning to miss
Said goodbye, wasn't ready yet
Only see you in this silhouette
For someone I'm still learning to miss
Said goodbye, wasn't ready yet
Only see you in this silhouette
All the fire has left her. The field it burned across is just ash now, curling up into the breeze of uncertainty that cuts through her. She isn't really sure what she's doing anymore. She hasn't made it to here in forever—and even so, this feels different. Every other time it had been easy to shake loose, but this feels like she's fighting herself more than him, one hand finally letting go right as the other one grabs hold again. It's gonna hurt, she's trying to remind herself, but it feels like that already started to set in the second he began to leave.
His hand taking hers stills her into something stiff at first. It has a way of silencing all the noise though, of shoring up everything that's unsteady, and gradually she eases into the fold of his fingers. The wind dies down, leaving just the summer storm to finish rolling in. That's all? she thinks, and for a moment, it feels like she could manage to give him that. He's asking for very reasonable things, and maybe she could try not full sending something for once, try a half-measure.
That'd be more believable if she hadn't already stepped off an edge.
So when he finishes, when she feels the drift of his thumb on her knuckles like its own heartbeat, she tries to press a smile back into place. Something soft to offer, to make up for all the sharpness she didn't mean to turn on him. Something she wishes felt more real, because she'd like to believe him, that they can stay in some limbo where they just enjoy the time they spend together, finding pockets of happiness, or making them. "Sugar, I don't know how to do less, least of all with you." She says it so quiet even her breath feels too loud to carry it without breaking it apart.
He's offering something she could take on most days, but she's already past holding him at arm's reach, he made sure of that at the desert, whether he meant to or not. "I can't spend a single night without you coming to my thoughts, not when even the stars remind me of you. And I haven't known a good night's rest since we got back, because now you're not next to me." Miss him? Yeah. She missed him, the way the dead miss breathing. She could finally admit it—a trade, for the warm curl of his words cushioning the hammer of her heart, an acknowledgement that she wasn't nothing to him. That makes the feelings for him sting a little less, but it doesn't change the risk of having them.
She lifts one hand to her hat and slides it off, stepping up onto her toes to gently pass it onto his head, if he'll let her. It's a memory he can keep, because at least in those it's all still rosy. They'll always have that. Much as she'd been trying to forget lately, hoping that'd fix something, maybe she could just hold onto that bit of him. "And I can't do more. All I got is a broken heart," she murmurs, her hand trailing to his chin, though she dodges his eyes. "Either I’m gonna end up cuttin’ you with it, or you’re gonna break it for me all over again. And if that happens..." Her voice thins, and her hand drops away from his face, settling overtop his hand and quieting that movement of his thumb. "I don’t think I’ll survive it this time. I’m not strong enough."
It would be a mercy, to end this here before either of them gets carved up by the other. "So I don't know that I've got any time to give," she admits, fingers squeezing his in quiet apology as she pulls back from his grip.
His hand taking hers stills her into something stiff at first. It has a way of silencing all the noise though, of shoring up everything that's unsteady, and gradually she eases into the fold of his fingers. The wind dies down, leaving just the summer storm to finish rolling in. That's all? she thinks, and for a moment, it feels like she could manage to give him that. He's asking for very reasonable things, and maybe she could try not full sending something for once, try a half-measure.
That'd be more believable if she hadn't already stepped off an edge.
So when he finishes, when she feels the drift of his thumb on her knuckles like its own heartbeat, she tries to press a smile back into place. Something soft to offer, to make up for all the sharpness she didn't mean to turn on him. Something she wishes felt more real, because she'd like to believe him, that they can stay in some limbo where they just enjoy the time they spend together, finding pockets of happiness, or making them. "Sugar, I don't know how to do less, least of all with you." She says it so quiet even her breath feels too loud to carry it without breaking it apart.
He's offering something she could take on most days, but she's already past holding him at arm's reach, he made sure of that at the desert, whether he meant to or not. "I can't spend a single night without you coming to my thoughts, not when even the stars remind me of you. And I haven't known a good night's rest since we got back, because now you're not next to me." Miss him? Yeah. She missed him, the way the dead miss breathing. She could finally admit it—a trade, for the warm curl of his words cushioning the hammer of her heart, an acknowledgement that she wasn't nothing to him. That makes the feelings for him sting a little less, but it doesn't change the risk of having them.
She lifts one hand to her hat and slides it off, stepping up onto her toes to gently pass it onto his head, if he'll let her. It's a memory he can keep, because at least in those it's all still rosy. They'll always have that. Much as she'd been trying to forget lately, hoping that'd fix something, maybe she could just hold onto that bit of him. "And I can't do more. All I got is a broken heart," she murmurs, her hand trailing to his chin, though she dodges his eyes. "Either I’m gonna end up cuttin’ you with it, or you’re gonna break it for me all over again. And if that happens..." Her voice thins, and her hand drops away from his face, settling overtop his hand and quieting that movement of his thumb. "I don’t think I’ll survive it this time. I’m not strong enough."
It would be a mercy, to end this here before either of them gets carved up by the other. "So I don't know that I've got any time to give," she admits, fingers squeezing his in quiet apology as she pulls back from his grip.
I'm homesick for conversations I would avoid
And now I miss the sound of your voice
Now there's nothing but a shadow left
So I'll just keep on chasing shadows of you
And now I miss the sound of your voice
Now there's nothing but a shadow left
So I'll just keep on chasing shadows of you
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
