I P O M O E A
—
T
here is a part of him that can almost-remember what it feels like, as he watches her, to be young. He feels like that orphan again standing here in the vineyard, the one who vowed to grow a garden larger than the Oasis one day (and to not put up walls or fees between it and the sun-sick people who toiled in the desert.)And there is another part of his heart that turns almost-soft again, that stops and starts again when he realizes that it will not be long before he can grow a garden of fruit for his own children. The smile that turns the corners of his lips is shy then, a little sad and a little joyous (he thinks he will never be able to feel happy without also feeling a little bit sad now. The two were as tangled as pond-reeds in his chest.) Maybe that is why his voice turns as gentle as it does when he speaks to her, how he slips so easily into someone-not-quite-himself, but someone he hopes children can look at without being afraid of the bits of darkness dwelling in the cracks of his soul.
The magic flows from him like a river and he sighs because of it.
“Grapes,” he tells her, when he finally takes a step away from the vines. Leaves are still unfurling, and grapes are still ripening, but slower now (like the beat of his own heart.) “These ones will someday be turned into wine and grape juices, when the rest of them ripen.”
He offers her a smile, and nods his head. “It’s okay. I know the owner, I don’t think he’ll mind much."
Ipomoea takes a few more of the grapes himself, as if to show her. He chews thoughtfully, looking across the field to where the lights are still glowing from the festival. He looks back to the girl.
“Did you come here with your parents?” She looked too young to be unaccompanied by someone — Delumine was often more relaxed in letting their children wander (the whole “it takes a village” mentality ran a bit too strong sometimes), but with winter drawing near (and memories of last winter all the stronger because of it), most mothers kept a more protective grip on their young.
you have dug your soul out of the dark
do not go back to what buried you
@maeve <3
