Slipping in my faith until I fall
He took the branches from her. Marcus bent them slowly between his hands, testing the give of the wood while Nova vibrated nearby in a storm of leaves and petals. The motion gave him something steady to focus on. Something that wasn’t the curious tilt of her head or the way she was studying him so intently, as if she expected him to suddenly confess to some grave injury or onset of illness. Or perhaps to confess that, while gathering supplies, he had eaten some berry he didn’t recognize.
The warmth still lingered stubbornly in his cheeks. For a brief moment, a reckless thought surfaced—simple and far too honest. He could just tell her. It wouldn’t be a complicated explanation. He could shrug, say it plainly. Just say that he thought she was beautiful. That when she had nearly fallen into him, surrounded by all those autumn colors, it had caught him off guard. Maybe she would laugh. Maybe she would blink at him in that open, unfiltered way she had about her, then agree with him as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to think such a thing. But there was another possibility too, that it would shift something between them in a way he didn’t understand yet, turn the easy warmth of the moment into something awkward and uncertain. Marcus glanced at her from the corner of his eye, taking in the restless energy she had. Not here, he decided. Not now. And certainly not beneath a tree that housed a listening and fickle and terrifying deity.
Quietly clearing his throat, Marcus forced his attention back to the branch in his hands. With careful pressure he curved it into a rough circle and began threading a thinner branch through the bend to hold the shape. His fingers worked methodically, twisting the ends together until the frame began to hold. “I think this might work. If I weave a few more through here it should stay together.” His eyes moved to her as she brushed her arm against his unconsciously, the warmth spreading up his neck again. “Then you can start adding all the impressive stuff you found, yeah?”
The warmth still lingered stubbornly in his cheeks. For a brief moment, a reckless thought surfaced—simple and far too honest. He could just tell her. It wouldn’t be a complicated explanation. He could shrug, say it plainly. Just say that he thought she was beautiful. That when she had nearly fallen into him, surrounded by all those autumn colors, it had caught him off guard. Maybe she would laugh. Maybe she would blink at him in that open, unfiltered way she had about her, then agree with him as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to think such a thing. But there was another possibility too, that it would shift something between them in a way he didn’t understand yet, turn the easy warmth of the moment into something awkward and uncertain. Marcus glanced at her from the corner of his eye, taking in the restless energy she had. Not here, he decided. Not now. And certainly not beneath a tree that housed a listening and fickle and terrifying deity.
Quietly clearing his throat, Marcus forced his attention back to the branch in his hands. With careful pressure he curved it into a rough circle and began threading a thinner branch through the bend to hold the shape. His fingers worked methodically, twisting the ends together until the frame began to hold. “I think this might work. If I weave a few more through here it should stay together.” His eyes moved to her as she brushed her arm against his unconsciously, the warmth spreading up his neck again. “Then you can start adding all the impressive stuff you found, yeah?”
Marcus
He never returned that call
