I'm not giving up, kicking off the rust
She's too far for him to grab when she speaks, too injured for him to properly manage it anyway, but it doesn't keep the ache of it from sliding through him. She's baring every fragile seam she's got, a current of honesty he doesn't normally get to notice, and it's all he can do not to be swept away with it. Not that he can't weather it—he listens the same way a field takes in the rain, unafraid of what might soak in, or how much. Her voice isn't a storm, but it's a steady downpour of vulnerability and eventually, he's soaked through, grown dark with it. Not in a way that ruins him, like she so fears, just a way that marks the passing of rain, like a dog lying out in it might leave a dry stain when it gets up after the first break.
What's threatening to flood him isn't her, but all the things he'd like to keep from her. Every cloud he'd pluck from her horizon, allowing her the space to stretch and shine like she should. That's why a small, reckless part of him wants to track Dahlia down and fish around for her ribs through her skin, or at least hold her down while Flora does. If only returning pain held much weight towards undoing it, then the risks of it all would be worth it. As it stands though, it'll just be another bedside fantasy, the way holding Flora has been, and is.
"She can't get you now," he says with assurance, as much for himself as for her. If Dahlia is the monster haunting Flora's dreams, then she's already got all her lights turned on. "None of them will. Because of all the things you did." Maybe she doesn't feel like it's worth all the pain, but it deserves recognition, and it shields her from more of it. As for the creams, he sighs in acknowledgment, "sounds like it's worth it to keep trying." Not the answer he'd been hoping for.
When she gathers her hair up and shows him, really shows him, Kaisel stills. Water continues to ripple out from where his hand had just been moving against it, and it still laps against his fingers where her approach sends it back. He takes in every mark, every place that had tried to unmake her, and he's grateful to already be on his knees. These might be the first scars he's ever hated.
He slowly reaches out towards her back with the drenched cloth, hovering for a moment as if uncertain, before he finally rests it lightly along the edge of her ribs and drags the warm water carefully and steadily. He's focused on the pull of her skin beneath his hand, and though he remembers the shape of it, the heat of it when he held this part of her last, something which should normally glow with fondness, has instead become dull with this destruction. There's pitfalls and rises where once there had been only the smooth glide of her. It's not that he cares that she's marred, but each one serves as a reminder of how she'd almost been taken, of how she had to survive. She's brave, but suddenly he doesn't feel like he is.
He lifts his gaze to the small edge of her eye he can see as she talks about the thing she'd change, no hesitancy present. He dips the washcloth back into the water and lightly passes down the space between her shoulders. "He means that much to you," Kaisel starts, less of a question and more of a fact, though there's an edge of wonder in his tone. He's not sure he has the courage to undo the past and become someone he doesn't know anymore. The bad, he's already gotten past it now, but undoing it doesn't keep it at bay. More bad will come, different, maybe even worse. That unknown is more terrifying than whatever he's already survived, but then, Kaisel has never lost a twin. "That you'd change all those parts of your life? You'd probably never get them back, not the same way. You'd be a totally different person." He doesn't say it, but it likely means they wouldn't have met much either. If Koa became less significant in her life, he'd be gone too. Hell, if she'd give up Jack, he doesn't stand a chance. It's not even real, but the idea takes a small part of him with it, leaving him a little emptier than before. He'd help her do it too, if he could.
He doesn't fault her for her choice, but he'd thought to show her that regretting what's already been done isn't worth it, that there's a balance, where all the other good things remain. Sounds like she's already used this scale before though and decided tilting it one way is for the best.
What's threatening to flood him isn't her, but all the things he'd like to keep from her. Every cloud he'd pluck from her horizon, allowing her the space to stretch and shine like she should. That's why a small, reckless part of him wants to track Dahlia down and fish around for her ribs through her skin, or at least hold her down while Flora does. If only returning pain held much weight towards undoing it, then the risks of it all would be worth it. As it stands though, it'll just be another bedside fantasy, the way holding Flora has been, and is.
"She can't get you now," he says with assurance, as much for himself as for her. If Dahlia is the monster haunting Flora's dreams, then she's already got all her lights turned on. "None of them will. Because of all the things you did." Maybe she doesn't feel like it's worth all the pain, but it deserves recognition, and it shields her from more of it. As for the creams, he sighs in acknowledgment, "sounds like it's worth it to keep trying." Not the answer he'd been hoping for.
When she gathers her hair up and shows him, really shows him, Kaisel stills. Water continues to ripple out from where his hand had just been moving against it, and it still laps against his fingers where her approach sends it back. He takes in every mark, every place that had tried to unmake her, and he's grateful to already be on his knees. These might be the first scars he's ever hated.
He slowly reaches out towards her back with the drenched cloth, hovering for a moment as if uncertain, before he finally rests it lightly along the edge of her ribs and drags the warm water carefully and steadily. He's focused on the pull of her skin beneath his hand, and though he remembers the shape of it, the heat of it when he held this part of her last, something which should normally glow with fondness, has instead become dull with this destruction. There's pitfalls and rises where once there had been only the smooth glide of her. It's not that he cares that she's marred, but each one serves as a reminder of how she'd almost been taken, of how she had to survive. She's brave, but suddenly he doesn't feel like he is.
He lifts his gaze to the small edge of her eye he can see as she talks about the thing she'd change, no hesitancy present. He dips the washcloth back into the water and lightly passes down the space between her shoulders. "He means that much to you," Kaisel starts, less of a question and more of a fact, though there's an edge of wonder in his tone. He's not sure he has the courage to undo the past and become someone he doesn't know anymore. The bad, he's already gotten past it now, but undoing it doesn't keep it at bay. More bad will come, different, maybe even worse. That unknown is more terrifying than whatever he's already survived, but then, Kaisel has never lost a twin. "That you'd change all those parts of your life? You'd probably never get them back, not the same way. You'd be a totally different person." He doesn't say it, but it likely means they wouldn't have met much either. If Koa became less significant in her life, he'd be gone too. Hell, if she'd give up Jack, he doesn't stand a chance. It's not even real, but the idea takes a small part of him with it, leaving him a little emptier than before. He'd help her do it too, if he could.
He doesn't fault her for her choice, but he'd thought to show her that regretting what's already been done isn't worth it, that there's a balance, where all the other good things remain. Sounds like she's already used this scale before though and decided tilting it one way is for the best.
Kaisel
I keep acting tough but maybe I'm not good enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
