WEAVER
she was beautiful
in the way a forest fire was beautiful
in the way a forest fire was beautiful
They speak the same language (or lack thereof, as the case may be). She doesn't sit down and tell you how she feels, but it is always obvious enough. Her affection is displayed in the way she touches, in the way she listens, in the way she pours a drink you didn’t need to ask for. There is something to be said for those actions, for things as simple as a gentle kiss to the forehead. It means so much more than words. Words are easier to fake, easier to hide behind. Though you could fake actions too, it was harder to make them feel convincing. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and Weaver has always preferred actions.
His arm wraps around her, and she finds a place for her head against his chest, eyes drifting shut. How unexpected this night had been, and yet, how wonderful. ”This one worked out in my favor pretty well. Though I admit, our first meeting did too, or we would not be here.” Here meaning the Kraai. Here meaning tucked in each other’s arms, finding comfort and solace in the growing friendship between them, in the shared loss. Maybe she ought to be thanking that ugly spire, for clearly, something good had come from it.
His arm wraps around her, and she finds a place for her head against his chest, eyes drifting shut. How unexpected this night had been, and yet, how wonderful. ”This one worked out in my favor pretty well. Though I admit, our first meeting did too, or we would not be here.” Here meaning the Kraai. Here meaning tucked in each other’s arms, finding comfort and solace in the growing friendship between them, in the shared loss. Maybe she ought to be thanking that ugly spire, for clearly, something good had come from it.
something to be admired from a distance
