[P] steep hills of vicodin tears,

[Raum]

 


This was why he should not make jokes.
 
Rhoswen’s eyes narrow at his words and then widen, incredulous. Stars snag in her silver eyes and tremble in the liquid there; they are depthless pools, mirrored beneath a waxing moon.  
 
Raum looks away, for the fury bites into his skin like a knife. Should he say it was a joke, or let this blade cut deep and tend his wound later? The Crow opts for the latter, and fights to quell the burn where her skin touched his.
 
This girl, this creature of his heart, looks at him with fury burning. Her anger is a wildfire to match the frost of his own gaze. His skin is pricked with the frozen spikes of their ire and like a trapped beast he fights and fights against their pain.
 
They watch each other as they walk, no, swim through this dim night of shadows and liquid silver. He has forgotten who he is in this moment, for all that consumes him is his threat. It was a serrated barb, meant to dig deep into her heart, her soul. He will forever remain true to it. If Rhoswen left again, he would not wait for her, not again. He couldn’t…
 
Rose looks away, her hair, the colour of dying suns, courses down her cheek. He looks to the angles of her face, to eyes heavy and sad. Oh that hideous twist of his stomach and the leap of his heart before it freefalls down: He wanted her hurt, he takes joy in it, but only for one brief, superficial moment. Then he just feels the blankness; this love has ruined him and he burns to ashes beneath the embers of her sorrow.
 
She tells him a story of suns and moons, love and death. His blue eyes pull her in, like a tide tugging her out to shore. The Crow watches her lips as they form each word and with them paint a sky holding its two lovers. Raum had always adored her stories: this whimsical girl with her flighty heart.
 
Rhoswen finishes her fable with fragile words and a heavy silence. Could you imagine ever loving someone that much?Raum has stopped, those blue eyes drinking her in, the face he knows so well. He looks to her eyes with their myriad hues of silver. His gaze never wavers as the moonlight spotlights him, exposing his every terrible truth: A crow, a spy, an assassin and a boy so terribly, hopelessly in love.
 
“Yes.”

@Rhoswen - eeeeek, confessions ahoy.