MILO
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me
but there's gold in the dirt
but there's gold in the dirt
Brows draw further together as she says no, worry evident in his gaze as he scans her until she’s looking away and seemingly finishes the sentence. And Milo? He doesn’t know any better, he’s not really a people reader, so he doesn’t push. She says not to worry about it, and he tries not to, nodding and letting the conversation of that topic drop. It’s easier that way, he thinks. So he pulls her in against the stiffening her body gives, hoping it’s enough to get her to relax, to mention a gift that he’s gotten her in the hopes it’ll bring the light back to those beautiful sea glass eyes of hers.
He passes over the comment of good timing, because it had been, in favor for the surprise that crosses her face when he tells her of said gift. What he doesn’t expect is for her to have one for him too, the smile growing on his face again in the hopes it might push away her own fears. “Didja?” He asks with a quiet breathy laugh, before letting her go and moving to the corner of the room to pull out a relatively large box, wrapped in a fine fabric tied together with twine.
He brings it back as she puts her gift out first, Milo setting her gift on the table beside them as he spies the box, a red brow lifting in surprise as he reaches out for it. “It is m’favorite place.” He hums, untying the box and peering at what it contains. At first he sees the note, the thank you, and he smiles softly with it — setting the note aside to keep, before he’s diving into the rest of it. And it makes the grin on his face grow wider, the craftsmanship on the bracelet absolutely stunning in swaths of red with the sea glass appearing as a pendant of sorts. And so he reaches out for her to press a kiss to her forehead, then hopefully her lips, before withdrawing and pulling the bracelet from its box. “This is real pretty, ‘Relia. Thank you. It’s so thoughtful.” His fingers dance along the cord before he’s holding it up for her with appreciation and gratitude glimmering in his gaze. “Y’wanna put it on?” He asks, holding out his arm for her to tie it around his wrist.
Provided she does it, he’ll then jut his head toward the box with that very same, soft smile. “’n go ahead ‘n open yers.” He waits, stepping beside the box to give her more room to open it. It’s large, and yet upon untangling the fabric and the twine, inside she’d find two weapons. Both are made of a sturdy wood, with metal blades along the outside and a handle somewhat near the middle of each, etched in a dark hue as if it’s been wood burned but with lines of mother of pearl veined through the dark wood.
He passes over the comment of good timing, because it had been, in favor for the surprise that crosses her face when he tells her of said gift. What he doesn’t expect is for her to have one for him too, the smile growing on his face again in the hopes it might push away her own fears. “Didja?” He asks with a quiet breathy laugh, before letting her go and moving to the corner of the room to pull out a relatively large box, wrapped in a fine fabric tied together with twine.
He brings it back as she puts her gift out first, Milo setting her gift on the table beside them as he spies the box, a red brow lifting in surprise as he reaches out for it. “It is m’favorite place.” He hums, untying the box and peering at what it contains. At first he sees the note, the thank you, and he smiles softly with it — setting the note aside to keep, before he’s diving into the rest of it. And it makes the grin on his face grow wider, the craftsmanship on the bracelet absolutely stunning in swaths of red with the sea glass appearing as a pendant of sorts. And so he reaches out for her to press a kiss to her forehead, then hopefully her lips, before withdrawing and pulling the bracelet from its box. “This is real pretty, ‘Relia. Thank you. It’s so thoughtful.” His fingers dance along the cord before he’s holding it up for her with appreciation and gratitude glimmering in his gaze. “Y’wanna put it on?” He asks, holding out his arm for her to tie it around his wrist.
Provided she does it, he’ll then jut his head toward the box with that very same, soft smile. “’n go ahead ‘n open yers.” He waits, stepping beside the box to give her more room to open it. It’s large, and yet upon untangling the fabric and the twine, inside she’d find two weapons. Both are made of a sturdy wood, with metal blades along the outside and a handle somewhat near the middle of each, etched in a dark hue as if it’s been wood burned but with lines of mother of pearl veined through the dark wood.
i never took the time to see
but i knew of its worth
but i knew of its worth
