it's 2am and i took 17 shots of vodka trying to forget your name
but the only name i forgot was mine. and sober —
She can’t help the curl of her lips as he turns dramatic at the toss of a hat. A charmer, that’s for sure. And in his heartbroken face, she can’t help but to laugh softly, breathy, before he winks to her and she rolls her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t have to do anything.” She teases him back, giving him a wink in response. She doesn’t have to do anything at all, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t entertain the idea in her mind, shrugging it off for later as Auni plows a path ahead, pausing when Harper mentions they could practice now.
Her steps pause again, and she turns to focus on him briefly, eyes sharpening as feathers sprout along her neck again, small puffs of white and black hidden haphazardly behind a scarf. “It certainly can’t hurt.” She says, tilting her head with a fiery smile to her lips. What harm was there in a dance? Absolutely none – despite the fact she barely even danced to begin with. She wasn’t like her mother who had learned how to dance for ballrooms and people.
She doesn’t really know where to start. But she’ll let him take the lead when he’s ready.
Still, she sees his smile fade and she wonders what she’s said that offended him some – but his eyes meet hers, shadowed and haunted, and her own icy eyes once held high with brightness and sharpness shutter slightly at the sight. And when he goes to rub against once of his own scars, she resists the urge to reach for her neck, for her spine, for hands that are flecked with scars, too. And a light frown reaches her face briefly before he offers an answer.
“Both is acceptable.” She tells him, a slight break to her frown with the edging of a smile. “I can’t say I’m not a seeker myself.” Except her choices had been terrible, bad, full of dread and wounds that time couldn’t even heal. She was doing better here, somewhat. The lines blurred together at the end of the day. She finds that she doesn’t really know if she’s better than she was at the start, or painfully, terribly, the same.
Her steps pause again, and she turns to focus on him briefly, eyes sharpening as feathers sprout along her neck again, small puffs of white and black hidden haphazardly behind a scarf. “It certainly can’t hurt.” She says, tilting her head with a fiery smile to her lips. What harm was there in a dance? Absolutely none – despite the fact she barely even danced to begin with. She wasn’t like her mother who had learned how to dance for ballrooms and people.
She doesn’t really know where to start. But she’ll let him take the lead when he’s ready.
Still, she sees his smile fade and she wonders what she’s said that offended him some – but his eyes meet hers, shadowed and haunted, and her own icy eyes once held high with brightness and sharpness shutter slightly at the sight. And when he goes to rub against once of his own scars, she resists the urge to reach for her neck, for her spine, for hands that are flecked with scars, too. And a light frown reaches her face briefly before he offers an answer.
“Both is acceptable.” She tells him, a slight break to her frown with the edging of a smile. “I can’t say I’m not a seeker myself.” Except her choices had been terrible, bad, full of dread and wounds that time couldn’t even heal. She was doing better here, somewhat. The lines blurred together at the end of the day. She finds that she doesn’t really know if she’s better than she was at the start, or painfully, terribly, the same.
— or drunk, you're the only thing on my mind
KIADA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
