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writing_shadows All thanks to Rhona for the prompts! ^_^
Friendship:
There is nothing to talk about, so they do not speak. Instead they stand for as long as they are able, watching the ashes drift to the ground like sullied snowflakes and Heartless, despite herself, lets her traitor tongue dart out, serpentine, to catch one.
No, nothing like snow.
She sees his shoulders tense, hears the quiet sigh and feels her own frozen heart constrict.
“Should I go? I should, I should...this is my fault, after all. I am the burden, here.”
He turns to her, black eyes judging, damning and then, as always, accepting.
“Of course not.”
How odd that one can feel sickened and relieved all at once.
Trust:
“I’ll swear a pledge, if you like. If that makes you more comfortable. I hear it does.”
He shakes his head, sending dirty wisps of straw flying out like dandelion seeds upon the wind. She blinks, watching the contrails they leave. Such a beautiful misery, her Joshua.
“No, Heartless. I’m not afraid of you.” He murmurs, the words as tired as he, himself.
She grins, widely, all pearls and sharks and frostbite.
“Lovely. And I am not afraid of you, either. What terrible Duchesses and Ministers we make.”
And, of course, he takes it to heart.
Just like she knew he would.
You can place your faith in hopelessness.
Knife:
From where does betrayal come? From where is born treachery?
She twirls the glittering blade in her hands, marvelling at the small, welling cuts.
So many enemies...how many of them deserved?
And which great enemy hides in the deadly metal’s brittle bright depths? And is it the Enemy, at all?
So transfixed is she that she doesn’t even hear him approach and only just feels the pain between her shoulders. She reaches back, distractedly, pulls out the offending dart.
“So it has come to this? So soon...” Her vision begins to blur as she turns to face him, neither smiling nor frowning. Not happy or sad.
Never one nor the other.
Ever, always both.
He just nods, inscrutable as ever.
“Was it you, or me?” She wonders, academically.
She feels herself drop, down the rabbit hole at last. He catches her. He always catches her. She sees his lips form the answer, while his eyes give another and finally, she understands.
Friendship:
There is nothing to talk about, so they do not speak. Instead they stand for as long as they are able, watching the ashes drift to the ground like sullied snowflakes and Heartless, despite herself, lets her traitor tongue dart out, serpentine, to catch one.
No, nothing like snow.
She sees his shoulders tense, hears the quiet sigh and feels her own frozen heart constrict.
“Should I go? I should, I should...this is my fault, after all. I am the burden, here.”
He turns to her, black eyes judging, damning and then, as always, accepting.
“Of course not.”
How odd that one can feel sickened and relieved all at once.
Trust:
“I’ll swear a pledge, if you like. If that makes you more comfortable. I hear it does.”
He shakes his head, sending dirty wisps of straw flying out like dandelion seeds upon the wind. She blinks, watching the contrails they leave. Such a beautiful misery, her Joshua.
“No, Heartless. I’m not afraid of you.” He murmurs, the words as tired as he, himself.
She grins, widely, all pearls and sharks and frostbite.
“Lovely. And I am not afraid of you, either. What terrible Duchesses and Ministers we make.”
And, of course, he takes it to heart.
Just like she knew he would.
You can place your faith in hopelessness.
Knife:
From where does betrayal come? From where is born treachery?
She twirls the glittering blade in her hands, marvelling at the small, welling cuts.
So many enemies...how many of them deserved?
And which great enemy hides in the deadly metal’s brittle bright depths? And is it the Enemy, at all?
So transfixed is she that she doesn’t even hear him approach and only just feels the pain between her shoulders. She reaches back, distractedly, pulls out the offending dart.
“So it has come to this? So soon...” Her vision begins to blur as she turns to face him, neither smiling nor frowning. Not happy or sad.
Never one nor the other.
Ever, always both.
He just nods, inscrutable as ever.
“Was it you, or me?” She wonders, academically.
She feels herself drop, down the rabbit hole at last. He catches her. He always catches her. She sees his lips form the answer, while his eyes give another and finally, she understands.
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