Theea
one day, I'll be out of time
And I just wanna feel alive
And I just wanna feel alive
I can feel it in my face—the way it softens, the way my smile lingers longer than I mean it to. Calypso’s promise settles deep in my chest, warm and steady in a way I’m not used to. I can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to make a genuine friend. Not just someone you talk to because they happen to be nearby, but someone you can actually trust to show up.
We’re so different—her with that sunlight confidence and easy grace, me with my hesitant starts and awkward pauses—but her kindness is almost overwhelming. It reminds me of the ocean on a hot day: cool and startling all at once, leaving you wide awake. It feels… strange, but in a good way. Like we’ve known each other longer than a single greeting and gift at a birthday party, longer than handing me one drink in a noisy, crowded bar.
I glance around the house again, my eyes catching on the faded blue trim of the window frames, the chipped paint curling at the edges. In my mind, the dust is gone, the light pours through clean panes, and voices carry from the porch. The thought of a housewarming makes something giddy spark in my chest, quick and bright—though it’s tangled with a quiet thread of nerves. "In the spirit of friendship, I should be honest with you—I've never even hosted a friend before." Or had one, I don't add. Parties are still out of my depth, no matter how much I’m trying to change that.
I look back at her, my smile pulling wider despite myself. “I’m glad you get to see her,” I say honestly, my voice warm. “Even if it’s just sometimes.”
The question has been sitting in the back of my mind since she first mentioned her mother, and my curiosity finally tips it forward. I tilt my head slightly, studying her face. “If you don’t mind me asking… what’s she like? Safrin, I mean. Did you get along with her well?”
It’s not the kind of thing you can just not wonder about, when the person in front of you was raised by the Herald of Vi.
We’re so different—her with that sunlight confidence and easy grace, me with my hesitant starts and awkward pauses—but her kindness is almost overwhelming. It reminds me of the ocean on a hot day: cool and startling all at once, leaving you wide awake. It feels… strange, but in a good way. Like we’ve known each other longer than a single greeting and gift at a birthday party, longer than handing me one drink in a noisy, crowded bar.
I glance around the house again, my eyes catching on the faded blue trim of the window frames, the chipped paint curling at the edges. In my mind, the dust is gone, the light pours through clean panes, and voices carry from the porch. The thought of a housewarming makes something giddy spark in my chest, quick and bright—though it’s tangled with a quiet thread of nerves. "In the spirit of friendship, I should be honest with you—I've never even hosted a friend before." Or had one, I don't add. Parties are still out of my depth, no matter how much I’m trying to change that.
I look back at her, my smile pulling wider despite myself. “I’m glad you get to see her,” I say honestly, my voice warm. “Even if it’s just sometimes.”
The question has been sitting in the back of my mind since she first mentioned her mother, and my curiosity finally tips it forward. I tilt my head slightly, studying her face. “If you don’t mind me asking… what’s she like? Safrin, I mean. Did you get along with her well?”
It’s not the kind of thing you can just not wonder about, when the person in front of you was raised by the Herald of Vi.
look mama, i can fly
