IT HURTS
He almost asks her what she knows of love. Because he-- he knows nothing except what he’s been told, and he’s always hungry for more. It is the orphan’s curse, this longing for what fate has deprived him of: warmth, companionship, love. At the same time, he holds those things at arms length, keenly aware of what a weakness they are.
Dune truly believes that if he allows himself to love, he will lose everything he’s worked for.
When her wings snap, electric, he feels the brush of feathers against his side and he shivers. She reminds him of a dream. The way she leans, moves, shifts; ethereal. Holy.
He knew what she was from the start-- from the daydream when he smiled his toothy crow smile and she flicked her panther tail in warning. But it’s different in real life. There is something horrifying in the way she shifts as she runs, the way a hoof lifts off the ground and returns as a paw. There is something beautiful about it, too, flesh seized by magic. The natural order of things, left to run its wild course. Finally, it is sad. He is left alone. She runs. She runs and runs and all that is left is Dune and his flowers and, through the velvet tang of roses, the lingering scent of his dreamer.
“I’ll find you again,” he calls after her, even when she’s past hearing. I’ll find you time and time again, I swear. And like a dream, their encounter is over.
Dune blinks and reality comes rushing in. With sunset comes a chill breeze; he shivers beneath his mountain of flowers. For a long moment he stares at the horizon that swallowed Warset. And then he turns and he returns to work. Work, work, work-- the one steady thing in his life.
He tries not to think of the look in her eyes as he repeats to himself, it's overrated anyway.
@Warset <3
