[P] gossamer [fall]

[Elena]

take this burden away from me
and bury it before it buries me

Elena wears love well, and heartbreak better. She was startled by a vision of herself the other day, by the sad, sorry face that had stared back at her from the reflective surface of the mirror. That girl had worn tragedy in her eyes the shadow of warm, clear oceans. Elena wondered if this is what others saw when they looked at her. She cannot say if this look is familiar because Elena feels so lost in her own identity that she wonders what face is her own.

She sighs at the sight of the girl with the hidden teeth smile and it is the sound of autumn, of leaves crumpled and dry and bent beneath the wind, of things beautiful and desolate, lonely. She can feel a smile tightening the corners of her mouth. Anandi would never be an unwelcome face in Elena’s mind nor that crystalline gaze. The smirk in her lips was smug, playful as they turn away from the man. “I don't think I will ever quite understand men,” she admits with a blink of blue eyes that makes her look so heartbreakingly innocent for a moment. She laughs then, it only adds to that sweetness that coats Elena as easy at the salt air, here beside the ocean. “And what of women? Do we grow bold?” She asks before her mind quite has a chance to catch up with her mouth. After all, it had been beside a bonfire that she had first asked a man—a monk— to dance with her.

“Please do!” She responds when they have settled beside the cliff, a place more secluded, away from the prying eyes that rove over female bodies as if they were created just for them. Elena shifts under her smile, avoiding the truth seemed just as good as a lie and the golden girl feels it thrum against her heart guiltily.

A topic change is welcomed, Elena thinks the topic is avoided, so unaware of Anandi’s knowledge. Maybe if she had known, maybe if she had been away, she would have asked if she knew about the monk, if she knew about the girl, if she knew about all the other secrets. Maybe Elena would have asked if she could tell her.

But then again, maybe not.
They are just maybes after all.

Head turns just slightly in a silent question as glacier eyes watch the mare almost wearily. “My apologies,” she offers. “I had assumed the two of you were friends, but that may not be the case?” She asks hesitantly. “Lucinda seemed—hurried,” she decides on, teetering between other words, always trying to maintain some sort of politeness.

Anandi had granted her the grace of changing subjects and so Elena allows her the same. “You aren't just saying that to get in my good graces are you?” She asks with mock suspicion, fluttering dark lashes. “My whole family is full of blue-eyed blondes,” she responds. “I’ve always liked dark eyes.” She says, dark like an abyss, like Aerwir’s, not like the monk’s, no, not like his at all. “Maybe it is the mystery of them,” she says almost to herself. She takes a drink. “Or maybe it’s just easier to see my own reflection in them.” She laughs because it isn't true. “So tell me, Anandi, what secrets have you learned in our time apart?”

so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me

@Anandi