I'm like a titan that's risin'
He expected to lay siege to her stubbornness with his own, compliments and memories raised like mortars. He thought she wouldn't go down without a fight—Spice aimed like artillery, some god conjured as a snare, or Flora's personal weaponry targeting him until she achieved compliance. He even figured she might leave him. He'd never seen her this upset at him after all, so while he banked on the likelihood she wouldn't strand him, he did not set it outside the realm of possibilities today and committed to the idea of making camp here if needed—at the very least he assumed she'd come back after an hour or so, although the sheep might have mauled him by then.
He does not expect the way she yields. It's as faint as the difference between eggshell and white, but it's there, and he'll take it.
The muffled noise of her easing amongst the flowers draws a careful exhale from him, and slowly he leans back into the folds of color too. He doesn't dare speak, even fears the sound of his breath tearing this tissue paper moment. One where neither of them are slinging explanations or wounds and they get to just be. He knows it doesn't mean anything is better, not in the ways that really matter, but he can't help but wish they could lay here all day and find shapes in the sky to laugh about.
As with all other moments he's tried to hold still though, this one too breaks and moves on, bending into the hushed spread of her voice. He inhales deeply through his nose as he listens, eyes closing shut until it's just the sound of her in the faceless, dark sea of the world. "It wasn't stupid of you," he murmurs around the corner of a frown. "I wanted to come see you...I would have," he licks his lips. He should have risked more for her, even her rejection. Should have gotten a clear answer instead of created one. Too many things he should have done.
A grumble of acknowledgement proceeds a deep sigh at her final words. "I know...now." When he'd asked if she'd change anything, at the time his answer had been no, but now he wishes he had the ability to go back to that night at the House of Midnight and redo it all, or at least one of the days afterwards, even if it made the future him someone different from who he is now. He'd prefer someone else. His fingers pluck up a flower and curl it's stem over and over in his hand. "I'm sorry, Ro. I never wanted to make you feel like this." He tilts his head, trying to glance from the edge of his view to where he thinks she is.
"Let me make it up to you?" He can't change what'd happened, but he could go forward better prepared to never do this again, not to her.
He does not expect the way she yields. It's as faint as the difference between eggshell and white, but it's there, and he'll take it.
The muffled noise of her easing amongst the flowers draws a careful exhale from him, and slowly he leans back into the folds of color too. He doesn't dare speak, even fears the sound of his breath tearing this tissue paper moment. One where neither of them are slinging explanations or wounds and they get to just be. He knows it doesn't mean anything is better, not in the ways that really matter, but he can't help but wish they could lay here all day and find shapes in the sky to laugh about.
As with all other moments he's tried to hold still though, this one too breaks and moves on, bending into the hushed spread of her voice. He inhales deeply through his nose as he listens, eyes closing shut until it's just the sound of her in the faceless, dark sea of the world. "It wasn't stupid of you," he murmurs around the corner of a frown. "I wanted to come see you...I would have," he licks his lips. He should have risked more for her, even her rejection. Should have gotten a clear answer instead of created one. Too many things he should have done.
A grumble of acknowledgement proceeds a deep sigh at her final words. "I know...now." When he'd asked if she'd change anything, at the time his answer had been no, but now he wishes he had the ability to go back to that night at the House of Midnight and redo it all, or at least one of the days afterwards, even if it made the future him someone different from who he is now. He'd prefer someone else. His fingers pluck up a flower and curl it's stem over and over in his hand. "I'm sorry, Ro. I never wanted to make you feel like this." He tilts his head, trying to glance from the edge of his view to where he thinks she is.
"Let me make it up to you?" He can't change what'd happened, but he could go forward better prepared to never do this again, not to her.
Kaisel
Show you the harder the battle, the harder I fight
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
