toaru
All too eager and sweet, Fever unspools towards him like a skein of yarn unwinding, letting herself reach and reach and reach and then... She comes up short, retreating back into the lengths of herself to hide and play coy once more. And it is a game. For he has seen the soul of her, and she of him, and they are no strangers to one another's tricks and truths. Once, perhaps, Fever knew him better than anyone else in this world. There are times, he knows, she still might. But today, in this moment, they are both grown beyond that; they have come so very far from street rats with dirty faces and silly, gap-toothed smiles just looking for a place (or a person) to belong. Every sinew of her says he no longer belongs. From the narrowing of those hypnotic, golden eyes to the sultry turn of hidden lips, he knows the woman can no longer be his home. No longer a port in the storm hammering away at his sails.
Toaru wants to sigh. Let the weight of the world fall out with his breath as it used to when they were young.
He does not.
Standing tall, resolute, his head tilts only slightly, angling as though to read this new snake before him that wears the skin of his former friend. Is she still his friend? From this distance - physically, emotionally, soul-shreddingly far from her - it is hard to tell what is and, what was, and what will be. So he steps closer, daring her with that burning gaze to try and skewer him upon her horns. "I thought you had died," he returns just as softly, looking behind her as though it would show her corpse upon the streets. It does not. And she did not. And some part of him is grateful that their burning deity, as wrathful as he could be, did not take her from this world too soon. "I should have known you would not..." and if it is a compliment he does not say so. How does one compliment a ghost? A memory? A smoke trail back to the past that will be blown away as soon as he turns his head? You do not. You simply exist and move forward, keep walking and running until it is gone and does not matter. She does not matter. But this is a lie. It will always be a lie because she has always mattered; from the very first moment they met, she mattered. Wherever her soul went, his did too. And when she did not show, when his soul still walked beside hers, he did not feel it fall into the oblivion as he thought it might have were she ever to leave.
"I cannot leave, there is still a world to build," he says at last, wondering if she'll remember at all the city they'd planned to make all those nights while looking at the stars. Somewhere beautiful.
Somewhere perfect...
Regardless of those beside him or behind him, Toaru still marches forward, heedless of the consequences, into a future of uncertainty and endless beauty. The tears will not matter. The strife will fade. And when he sees the smiles of children and people who lost their voices somewhere along the way, then he will know that it is all worth it.
"speech"
Toaru wants to sigh. Let the weight of the world fall out with his breath as it used to when they were young.
He does not.
Standing tall, resolute, his head tilts only slightly, angling as though to read this new snake before him that wears the skin of his former friend. Is she still his friend? From this distance - physically, emotionally, soul-shreddingly far from her - it is hard to tell what is and, what was, and what will be. So he steps closer, daring her with that burning gaze to try and skewer him upon her horns. "I thought you had died," he returns just as softly, looking behind her as though it would show her corpse upon the streets. It does not. And she did not. And some part of him is grateful that their burning deity, as wrathful as he could be, did not take her from this world too soon. "I should have known you would not..." and if it is a compliment he does not say so. How does one compliment a ghost? A memory? A smoke trail back to the past that will be blown away as soon as he turns his head? You do not. You simply exist and move forward, keep walking and running until it is gone and does not matter. She does not matter. But this is a lie. It will always be a lie because she has always mattered; from the very first moment they met, she mattered. Wherever her soul went, his did too. And when she did not show, when his soul still walked beside hers, he did not feel it fall into the oblivion as he thought it might have were she ever to leave.
"I cannot leave, there is still a world to build," he says at last, wondering if she'll remember at all the city they'd planned to make all those nights while looking at the stars. Somewhere beautiful.
Somewhere perfect...
Regardless of those beside him or behind him, Toaru still marches forward, heedless of the consequences, into a future of uncertainty and endless beauty. The tears will not matter. The strife will fade. And when he sees the smiles of children and people who lost their voices somewhere along the way, then he will know that it is all worth it.
