[Crookytail's earnest clumsiness cuts a contrast to Cerise's skittish grace. The two otherworldly creatures are at odds for a moment, distanced and out of sync, until Cerise slows her pace, doubles back, swooping alongside the wormipede and extending a fin as if for shelter.
Why does the same tendency seem so hopelessly broken in the witch whose soul is supposedly reflected in the ghostly orca? Can he ever provide more than he needs, or be the shelter more than the storm?
Myr can't see the way his head cants, the doubt and stress on his face, the way his eyes and brows interact more honestly than they ever would around someone sighted. L's a different creature around Myr for many reasons, not the least of which involves the elf's blindness.]
I liked kissing you.
[He says so softly, but it's clear, not mumbled. L's intentional as he speaks, now, nothing half-formed or faltering.
He's thought about this so much, after all.]
It's probably the only time I thought I was dreaming, and it felt like a dream, but turned out to be real after all.
[That spindly bridge between fantasy and reality for one who has admitted to desiring what eternally dreaming can offer.]
I'm not noble, not like you are. That's how I know that any happiness you buy for me comes at an unfair price, you see? If I wanted this from the start then you're playing into my hands, and I hate that you are. I hate that my desire to be with you feels like a trap or an ambush. Everything could be better for you, and it should be... that can happen. If you're surrounded by noble intentions, it will happen.
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Why does the same tendency seem so hopelessly broken in the witch whose soul is supposedly reflected in the ghostly orca? Can he ever provide more than he needs, or be the shelter more than the storm?
Myr can't see the way his head cants, the doubt and stress on his face, the way his eyes and brows interact more honestly than they ever would around someone sighted. L's a different creature around Myr for many reasons, not the least of which involves the elf's blindness.]
I liked kissing you.
[He says so softly, but it's clear, not mumbled. L's intentional as he speaks, now, nothing half-formed or faltering.
He's thought about this so much, after all.]
It's probably the only time I thought I was dreaming, and it felt like a dream, but turned out to be real after all.
[That spindly bridge between fantasy and reality for one who has admitted to desiring what eternally dreaming can offer.]
I'm not noble, not like you are. That's how I know that any happiness you buy for me comes at an unfair price, you see? If I wanted this from the start then you're playing into my hands, and I hate that you are. I hate that my desire to be with you feels like a trap or an ambush. Everything could be better for you, and it should be... that can happen. If you're surrounded by noble intentions, it will happen.