I will not ask you where you came from
I will not ask, and neither should you
Every step has a direction.
It sounds less and less convincing the more your direction becomes anywhere but here, but he supposes that just because he isn't sure he adheres to a mindset doesn't mean that it's not true. Probably, if Michael took more than a second to think about it (which he doesn't, because the concept burns white hot in his throat and it tastes like the desert, like burned wood, like sand and hot wind) he might realize that even his direction is onward, no matter the stakes.
The look he gives her is as long and as level as the autumn afternoon, those ocean eyes fixed and curious.
I wish, she says.
"You wish," Michael breathes, barely audible as the breeze pushes the words back into his mouth. Words that were probably better left unsaid. The planet turns beneath him and the sun will come up tomorrow and yet Michael has this distinct rock in his stomach that tells him things are not quite that simple. They never would be.
"That might be interesting."
Michael still hasn't decided if he misses his magic. The mind can be a dark place and walking its labyrinth had never been something he considered an integral part of himself.
He thinks it was his daughter that caused him to change his mind--Inwe was so dark and so haunted and so fragile that it made Michael cold, sent all his bones trembling, opened wide the pit that separates from everything he could try to cherish.
He gazes at her across that yawning gap, this twinkling creature and her city on the hill. His city on the hill. That gaze lingers a little too long; the head angles away a little too slowly. His smile becomes unfocused and blurred, more like a lamp in the dead of winter than the bright summer sun.
A shadow passes over them and Michael's skin crawls, first with caution then delight. The shff of heavy wings drags his attention from Isra to the dragon above and for the first time the hair falls away from his face, soft and gold and enraptured by the beast. His heart sings.
"Alright, I'll bite," Michael laughs, "tell me about this, and you. I think I literally might die if I don't get to know."
@isra
It sounds less and less convincing the more your direction becomes anywhere but here, but he supposes that just because he isn't sure he adheres to a mindset doesn't mean that it's not true. Probably, if Michael took more than a second to think about it (which he doesn't, because the concept burns white hot in his throat and it tastes like the desert, like burned wood, like sand and hot wind) he might realize that even his direction is onward, no matter the stakes.
The look he gives her is as long and as level as the autumn afternoon, those ocean eyes fixed and curious.
I wish, she says.
"You wish," Michael breathes, barely audible as the breeze pushes the words back into his mouth. Words that were probably better left unsaid. The planet turns beneath him and the sun will come up tomorrow and yet Michael has this distinct rock in his stomach that tells him things are not quite that simple. They never would be.
"That might be interesting."
Michael still hasn't decided if he misses his magic. The mind can be a dark place and walking its labyrinth had never been something he considered an integral part of himself.
He thinks it was his daughter that caused him to change his mind--Inwe was so dark and so haunted and so fragile that it made Michael cold, sent all his bones trembling, opened wide the pit that separates from everything he could try to cherish.
He gazes at her across that yawning gap, this twinkling creature and her city on the hill. His city on the hill. That gaze lingers a little too long; the head angles away a little too slowly. His smile becomes unfocused and blurred, more like a lamp in the dead of winter than the bright summer sun.
A shadow passes over them and Michael's skin crawls, first with caution then delight. The shff of heavy wings drags his attention from Isra to the dragon above and for the first time the hair falls away from his face, soft and gold and enraptured by the beast. His heart sings.
"Alright, I'll bite," Michael laughs, "tell me about this, and you. I think I literally might die if I don't get to know."
@isra
