She had fallen in love, once.
He was handsome, but in a way that made you think you should keep one hand on your wallet and the other on your heart (just for good measure). He was charming, but only if you weren’t watching close enough to see his fingers wrap around the strings of your purse.
She had thought that maybe he could heal the broken pieces of her; that he could hold her together with those hands that were so used to stealing.
But that was all that they were made for.
----
The sea wind bites at her skin. She doesn’t seem to mind, and instead lets the salt kiss the tender parts of her face. She wraps the tattered robe around her tighter for some semblance of warmth, something to shield her against the thrashing cold. It won’t help, she knows, but the familiarity of the fraying fabric is the only comfort she can indulge in on this ship.
That, and the book she held firmly in her grasp.
The pages are all worn, like her cloak, but it wouldn’t matter. She can recite its entirety by memory alone. She absentmindedly flips through, settling into an abandoned corner of the deck, while the waves gently rocks her into the solace of those words she loves so much.
“She would wonder what had hurt her when she found her face wet with tears, and then would wonder how she could have been hurt without knowing it.”
But those thoughts - and those words - are lost on the breeze as the ship docks and her attention is pulled from the pages and onto the streets that lay beyond. Those first few steps onto the cobblestones were shaky, hesitant; full of either apprehension or nervous excitement. Perhaps it was a mix of both that made her tumble onto the street below. Whatever the cause, a blush crept across her pale cheeks before she righted herself, and tried to brush off her embarrassing blunder.
She had other things to attend to.
He was handsome, but in a way that made you think you should keep one hand on your wallet and the other on your heart (just for good measure). He was charming, but only if you weren’t watching close enough to see his fingers wrap around the strings of your purse.
She had thought that maybe he could heal the broken pieces of her; that he could hold her together with those hands that were so used to stealing.
But that was all that they were made for.
----
The sea wind bites at her skin. She doesn’t seem to mind, and instead lets the salt kiss the tender parts of her face. She wraps the tattered robe around her tighter for some semblance of warmth, something to shield her against the thrashing cold. It won’t help, she knows, but the familiarity of the fraying fabric is the only comfort she can indulge in on this ship.
That, and the book she held firmly in her grasp.
The pages are all worn, like her cloak, but it wouldn’t matter. She can recite its entirety by memory alone. She absentmindedly flips through, settling into an abandoned corner of the deck, while the waves gently rocks her into the solace of those words she loves so much.
“She would wonder what had hurt her when she found her face wet with tears, and then would wonder how she could have been hurt without knowing it.”
But those thoughts - and those words - are lost on the breeze as the ship docks and her attention is pulled from the pages and onto the streets that lay beyond. Those first few steps onto the cobblestones were shaky, hesitant; full of either apprehension or nervous excitement. Perhaps it was a mix of both that made her tumble onto the street below. Whatever the cause, a blush crept across her pale cheeks before she righted herself, and tried to brush off her embarrassing blunder.
She had other things to attend to.
@any
abusing liquid time & finally posting her "coming to novus" thread
abusing liquid time & finally posting her "coming to novus" thread
