ISKRA
I always feel alone, inside my mind
How do I love my scars when I'm traumatized
How do I love my scars when I'm traumatized
He feels each tremor. Not because she shakes so greatly, but because he is straining to take them from her. He might not know the full depths with which she seizes in fear, but he knows between puddles and seas, she has never once balked except at this. The why behind it, that he's familiar with, and that he traces in his thoughts now with all the same steady potential of a thumb gliding over the freshly sharpened edge of a blade to test its cut.
Pummeling Sah as he had felt like burying this anger, but he's realizing that's only one end of the bone the dog is trying to hide. There's more to this than just one tournament and one man, snowy or not. This is the shadow of Mel's demise, cast like the long, crawling form from the reaper's doorway. This is vulnerability for someone who has been otherwise invincible, a chink in armor that's proven infallible. It drives the want to serve as her range of armaments. Be her shield, be her blade, be something strong enough that she'd reach to lift him up when she's in need of ducking. Because at least this, one of his first elements, one belonging to his mother, this he knows and this he can face. She has stood and helped him clamber up from a hole he dug himself, patient with the understanding that he sees demons where she does not, and now he can return the favor in turn. If only he could ensure no new demons arrive either.
Stepping in a bit closer to her, he offers his presence like a railing. She takes hold, and his head turns in towards her, brilliant in its encouragement and admiration to see her unfurl what she has kept clutched so tight. "That's right," he murmurs in response to her barely breathed analysis of the element. "Magic you can master."
The flash of light and energy, cutting through air and Snah alike, gives him goosebumps beneath his long sleeves. The sound of the sizzling impact drags out his smile, and as she bores into the chest, an enthusiastic laugh belts free. "That's it!" he encourages brightly, and when the static drains and she wonders, he reaches to grab hold of her and turn her into him as he leans down to claim her mouth with more proof than his voice could manage. The kiss he delivers is urgent in its devotion, pressing in warm and full and perhaps a touch too long before he permits a break.
"That," he says with the sternness of someone who means to be heard and believed. "Was awesome!"
Pummeling Sah as he had felt like burying this anger, but he's realizing that's only one end of the bone the dog is trying to hide. There's more to this than just one tournament and one man, snowy or not. This is the shadow of Mel's demise, cast like the long, crawling form from the reaper's doorway. This is vulnerability for someone who has been otherwise invincible, a chink in armor that's proven infallible. It drives the want to serve as her range of armaments. Be her shield, be her blade, be something strong enough that she'd reach to lift him up when she's in need of ducking. Because at least this, one of his first elements, one belonging to his mother, this he knows and this he can face. She has stood and helped him clamber up from a hole he dug himself, patient with the understanding that he sees demons where she does not, and now he can return the favor in turn. If only he could ensure no new demons arrive either.
Stepping in a bit closer to her, he offers his presence like a railing. She takes hold, and his head turns in towards her, brilliant in its encouragement and admiration to see her unfurl what she has kept clutched so tight. "That's right," he murmurs in response to her barely breathed analysis of the element. "Magic you can master."
The flash of light and energy, cutting through air and Snah alike, gives him goosebumps beneath his long sleeves. The sound of the sizzling impact drags out his smile, and as she bores into the chest, an enthusiastic laugh belts free. "That's it!" he encourages brightly, and when the static drains and she wonders, he reaches to grab hold of her and turn her into him as he leans down to claim her mouth with more proof than his voice could manage. The kiss he delivers is urgent in its devotion, pressing in warm and full and perhaps a touch too long before he permits a break.
"That," he says with the sternness of someone who means to be heard and believed. "Was awesome!"
I've been trying to find something
that can set my soul free
that can set my soul free
