AT LEAST WHEN SPRING COMES THEY ROAR BACK AGAIN
He has always been the type of boy a little too in love with fire. Not for the sake of arson, no, but because he believes too vivaciously in the beauty of burning. Oliver has always loved the honed edge of the blade, the way it can whistle. He’s never wielded it, but he’s played with knifes, with the edge of the precipice because what if, what if, what if—
and
it is something to make him feel exquisitely alive. That is with this mahogany woman, coloured like a deep, rich wine. Coloured like pomegranates. And his heart is still singing even after his song has stilled, even after she has laid the edge of her horn against the edge of his mouth and asks, have you been waiting long?
He pauses just long enough to let her breathe whatever she wants to in; he pauses just long enough to hear the empty something in her voice, like a winter plain in subzero weather. The absence of sound, of movement, the absence of anything but aching.
But Oliver doesn’t know about that. Oliver only knows how to curl his mouth into another smile and speak with a voice like embers left to burn, burn, burn. “Only my whole life.” He adds the next part as a darling, roguish afterthought, knowing he shouldn’t: “Sweetheart.”
Perhaps it's because he sees her bladed tail and his reflection in it. Perhaps it is the way the wind catches and almost whistles down her spiral horn. He strums the guitar with a lover’s light touch; he strums it again.
“Do you want another song?”
His blood hasn’t stopped trilling, with a bird’s high bright call. He feels it rush in his ears, behind the pulse of his neck, in the corner of his head. He feels frightfully alive.
@Thana || "Speech" || Songs: All is Well by Austin Basham (inspiration) and All the Pretty Girls by KALEO (for Thana ;D) || Plz don't kill him Thana
