DAMIEN
I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak
I'm angry and I know that's weak
Theea’s trip sends Damien sprawling onto the packed snow, the sudden jolt knocking the breath from his lungs for a heartbeat. He lies there a moment, staring up at the stars blurred behind the faint glow of braziers, a crooked grin spreading over his face. His laughter cuts through the cold air, low and genuine—a sound rare enough that it catches even him by surprise.
“Damn,” he huffs, conceding defeat as he pushes himself up on one hand, brushing snow from his shirt. When his eyes meet hers, they sparkle with amusement and respect. "So lesson one is... you can kick my ass now?"
Damien’s breath still steadying, he lets his gaze linger on Theea—not the girl who once trailed behind him, but a woman sharpened by hard lessons and fierce resolve. She moves with a confidence that’s both familiar and new. It unsettles him, in the quiet way that truth does, because it means the roles have shifted and maybe she’s no longer someone he needs to watch over.
He respects that. More than respect, there’s an unspoken acknowledgment: she’s her own force now, someone who could carve her own path through the wilds or the chaos of the world without asking for permission. And yet, beneath that steel, he senses the same spark—the stubborn streak, the hunger for independence—that once made her chase after him.
Damien lets himself imagine what she’s had to go through, the parts she’s kept hidden behind that teasing grin.
The night presses in, cold and deepening around them; a reminder that no matter how much fire sparks, time doesn’t stretch forever. He pushes himself up, collecting both of their belongings from the side of the 'ring'. He considers heading back for another drink, the familiar pull of warmth and numbness tempting him, but the weight of the night and his own quiet discipline stay his hand.
“Where are you staying?” He asks, voice low but easy, “I’ll walk you—make sure you don’t vanish into the night like some shadow. Though,” he offers her a warm half-smile, stepping closer, “maybe you should be walking me home instead.”
His eyes catch hers with a flicker of humor and something softer beneath it. The city’s glow flickers off the braziers nearby, but for a moment the cold feels less biting, softened by the quiet promise of company as they turn toward the dark streets.
“Damn,” he huffs, conceding defeat as he pushes himself up on one hand, brushing snow from his shirt. When his eyes meet hers, they sparkle with amusement and respect. "So lesson one is... you can kick my ass now?"
Damien’s breath still steadying, he lets his gaze linger on Theea—not the girl who once trailed behind him, but a woman sharpened by hard lessons and fierce resolve. She moves with a confidence that’s both familiar and new. It unsettles him, in the quiet way that truth does, because it means the roles have shifted and maybe she’s no longer someone he needs to watch over.
He respects that. More than respect, there’s an unspoken acknowledgment: she’s her own force now, someone who could carve her own path through the wilds or the chaos of the world without asking for permission. And yet, beneath that steel, he senses the same spark—the stubborn streak, the hunger for independence—that once made her chase after him.
Damien lets himself imagine what she’s had to go through, the parts she’s kept hidden behind that teasing grin.
The night presses in, cold and deepening around them; a reminder that no matter how much fire sparks, time doesn’t stretch forever. He pushes himself up, collecting both of their belongings from the side of the 'ring'. He considers heading back for another drink, the familiar pull of warmth and numbness tempting him, but the weight of the night and his own quiet discipline stay his hand.
“Where are you staying?” He asks, voice low but easy, “I’ll walk you—make sure you don’t vanish into the night like some shadow. Though,” he offers her a warm half-smile, stepping closer, “maybe you should be walking me home instead.”
His eyes catch hers with a flicker of humor and something softer beneath it. The city’s glow flickers off the braziers nearby, but for a moment the cold feels less biting, softened by the quiet promise of company as they turn toward the dark streets.
And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek
For whatever it is I seek
