[AW] CIRCUS CHILD ,

[Eik]

In the brilliant sunset her gaze has the sharpness of a cleaver, with the slightest hint of the fires it was forged in. It makes him wonder what worlds lie in her past and future, and how his own story overlaps. The ocean breeze seems to love the way she breathes his name, for it carries the sound away from him. It does not matter. Isn't that what he said the last time they met? The first time? He is not sure how much he trusts his memories, for they seem slightly different each time he looks back, certain details standing out more and more while others slowly fade. Words and phrases change, sometimes erase themselves entirely. And the more he looks back the less he can commit the present to memory. The bittersweet conundrum of being.

Her voice seems different than what he remembers. He thinks, though, that this is not due to his pockmarked memory but because they are both different than the last time they met. But he will ponder these differences far later, in hindsight.

"I would not lie to you, Rhoswen," he protests, half teasing, but the truth of her words hit him hard. For so long he has wandered the corridors of his thoughts, assuming he knew most every twist, assuming he knew himself. But as he thinks on her words he realizes that perhaps what he had mistaken for hope was in fact a deep knowing, a knowledge so subliminal he was afraid to trust in it. Perhaps. It makes him feel like two sides of a coin, going in two directions as it is flipped in the air. Not possible in this reality, and isn't that why he always feels just a little insane?

Still, you can't tell someone it isn't possible to feel what they're feeling. What it comes down to is this: Can you both hope for something and know that it will come to pass?

Or is knowledge just hope (or dread) come to fruition?

"but maybe you're right." Even as he says this he wonders if you can really know anything, or is it all just belief, disguised as fact. Again, two sides of the same coin, going in two directions. Its been less than a minute with her and he's already questioning his beliefs, splitting himself in two. He's delighted and tormented all in one, poor soul.

(Faraway, there is a buzzing sound, coming suddenly into focus as a symphony of instruments and voices he's never heard before-- music? Nothing's ever for certain, until the levy breaks down-- but the curtain drops again)

Do you condemn me for leaving?

A bark of laughter, rare for the somber grey, bursts from his chest. And a vague feeling of... not happiness but something similar- anticipation? Anticipation follows his laughter, filling in some of the holes in his rusted chest. She makes conversation feel like dancing (at least, the way he imagines dancing should feel, if you can do it right). "Of course not," he says, incredulous that she would ask such a thing. He does not need nor particularly want to touch her, but his warm voice envelops her like a hug.

"Have you been well?" Eik knows she is far stronger and sharper than she seems at first glance, but he is concerned for her nonetheless.

---

@Rhoswen :')