prayed to keep my soul
S
he thinks about him in the silence, and maybe she should be thinking about his friend they were to find, but she can only think about him, him, him. He is confusing and interesting and she decides right here and now that they are going to be friends and it doesn't really matter that he is so different from any of her other friends (a little older, a little more serious, a little taller) but none of that matters because he is her friend.
He glances down at her, and she thinks, she would like to find him again. And it would not matter if he hides or he wanders far, far away from herm because she was going to find him—
eventually.
Just as soon as she can sneak away again, because she thinks her mother may not like her meeting strange men on cliff sides. Because mother’s do not want children following in foot steps that are far too close to ledges, with far to long of falls waiting for them below.
She likes to think she is so different than her mother, but has no idea about the man that so intricately connects them.
“Or the courage,” she says, agrees. Then she giggles (because death is so far away, and she is too young for courage, she can only hold childish ignorance in her heart) and focuses on what he is saying because it seems incredibly important. But too soon she grows stoic with realization. “So will you hate me when I have to go?” she says hesitantly before lifting her chin a little higher to look into his eyes. Her heart hurt a little in her chest and she is surprised by the sensation but doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t seem like the right time to tell him that. Instead she just gives him a grin, the sadness disappearing as he grows a little playful.
“I won’t ever hate you,” she promises, her voice like a spring primrose, she sounds like her mother, or a little girl trying to be so much more grown up. “I won't even ever forget about you,” she says, her voice a little quieter. She reaches up and plants a kiss on his jaw. “You won’t forget about me, right?” Her mother may not be one for promises, but Elliana is not her mother.
She swings her head back and forth, dropping back into that childish impression of her mother’s elegant voice. “You can be my secret friend, just for me,” she says, another grin back at him, she blinks, thinking nothing of the fact that little girls shouldn't have such big secrets such as him. “My mom is almost home,” she says. “I have to go,” she says. “Sorry I can’t help you look anymore,” she apologizes before settling into a trot back to her mother’s cottage where Nic would be waiting for her.
She turns back around one last time. “Remember, shhhh, we’re secrets.”
Secrets.
@Vercingtorix elliana speaks
elliana
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