COLT
I've been sleeping wide awake
Slow dancing 'round the cracks in the floorboards
Fighting myself while lying in a
Bed I made and can't ignore
Slow dancing 'round the cracks in the floorboards
Fighting myself while lying in a
Bed I made and can't ignore
It feels like something has started to erode. She can't tell what, but there's a shift, the gathering of something before it breaks. Between all her storms, fire or water or wind, she's taken pieces of them away, carving out something whether she meant to or not. With the long sigh that eases from him, it seems it could be his patience that's finally whittling away underneath all this time. The memory of him yanking open gates for bulls rises up behind her eyes, a complaint buried there with a smile. She swallows it back, fingers uncurling a bit.
Quiet now in the wake of her noise, the force of it a drain on what remains, she considers a different version of this night for just a moment. One where she did things differently, where he did, where it wouldn't end the way she knows this one will. If she'd never even wondered that he'd stay, would he just have remained, and she would have found the answer in that? "Because then I'd know it mattered," she says, voice gone low and thready, the sound of something surrendering. The current has slowed to a crawl, all that feeling spreading thin and soaking in, mud instead of flood.
She's asking him to give things she frequently doesn't freely offer, but she feels like her heart's the only one on the line here, and that's half the problem of it all too. Each time with him, he's sunken closer to it, even with all her attempts to keep it tucked away. Maybe she hasn't reached his quite so thoroughly, given the only risks she's been willing to take with him have been opening her front door and standing beside him, and they don't feel like nearly enough to ask him to hand over all the rest. She wasn't going to blame him for leaving tonight, and she can't blame him for leaving at all; expected it really, despite a rising hope for something else.
A visit. An unknown amount of time gone. None of it's truly leaving, but it's absence wrapped up just a touch nicer and she doesn't fully trust it.
Her eyes drift at the sound of orders, and she slides away from the counter, backing into another that's behind her and grabbing the bottle of tequila there. She'd like to hear him and just nod. To understand so wholly that she's as neat as him about it, that she'd see him anywhere from a week to years and be fine. To pretend he hasn't swept her so cleanly off her feet that now being asked to stand on them again is as simple as rolling out of bed. Wouldn't be the first time she got good at crawling, she just thought she'd been careful enough to never have to do so again.
She tilts the bottle back, taking a large swig before setting it down. Her gaze feels like a heavy thing to move as she swings it back towards him, the silence breaking with him unbothered after all. That's something, she supposes. The only thing she's gotten so far is his calm, and she's holding it in her chest like it's proof of feeling, a sticky note being passed off as a love letter. "I get it," she murmurs, and truthfully she does. She doesn't need him loud, she just wants...an assurance that there's more than silence. Something to convince her that the way she knows she's gonna miss him won't be a mistake, that Thalassa's just a bitter bitch in a bar. For every warning twisting her gut that she heeded, she ignored twice as many, and she's not sure if doing so just handed over their hilts for him to use later or not. "I just wish I knew what you were thinking more often, seems it'd make everything easier."
Quiet now in the wake of her noise, the force of it a drain on what remains, she considers a different version of this night for just a moment. One where she did things differently, where he did, where it wouldn't end the way she knows this one will. If she'd never even wondered that he'd stay, would he just have remained, and she would have found the answer in that? "Because then I'd know it mattered," she says, voice gone low and thready, the sound of something surrendering. The current has slowed to a crawl, all that feeling spreading thin and soaking in, mud instead of flood.
She's asking him to give things she frequently doesn't freely offer, but she feels like her heart's the only one on the line here, and that's half the problem of it all too. Each time with him, he's sunken closer to it, even with all her attempts to keep it tucked away. Maybe she hasn't reached his quite so thoroughly, given the only risks she's been willing to take with him have been opening her front door and standing beside him, and they don't feel like nearly enough to ask him to hand over all the rest. She wasn't going to blame him for leaving tonight, and she can't blame him for leaving at all; expected it really, despite a rising hope for something else.
A visit. An unknown amount of time gone. None of it's truly leaving, but it's absence wrapped up just a touch nicer and she doesn't fully trust it.
Her eyes drift at the sound of orders, and she slides away from the counter, backing into another that's behind her and grabbing the bottle of tequila there. She'd like to hear him and just nod. To understand so wholly that she's as neat as him about it, that she'd see him anywhere from a week to years and be fine. To pretend he hasn't swept her so cleanly off her feet that now being asked to stand on them again is as simple as rolling out of bed. Wouldn't be the first time she got good at crawling, she just thought she'd been careful enough to never have to do so again.
She tilts the bottle back, taking a large swig before setting it down. Her gaze feels like a heavy thing to move as she swings it back towards him, the silence breaking with him unbothered after all. That's something, she supposes. The only thing she's gotten so far is his calm, and she's holding it in her chest like it's proof of feeling, a sticky note being passed off as a love letter. "I get it," she murmurs, and truthfully she does. She doesn't need him loud, she just wants...an assurance that there's more than silence. Something to convince her that the way she knows she's gonna miss him won't be a mistake, that Thalassa's just a bitter bitch in a bar. For every warning twisting her gut that she heeded, she ignored twice as many, and she's not sure if doing so just handed over their hilts for him to use later or not. "I just wish I knew what you were thinking more often, seems it'd make everything easier."
I'm tired of running from the conversations
Screaming in the silence, all alone
I'm frustrated, I can't take it
But I'll fake it, then I'll hate myself again
Screaming in the silence, all alone
I'm frustrated, I can't take it
But I'll fake it, then I'll hate myself again
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.
