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“The world is always wary of what they don’t understand.”
Her voice pooled across the void, but she stared at the borders, at the metallic sentinels, at the hollowed vessels carved out of snow and spite. The truth layered over the lies, over the barbarity, over the sinister aspects, over the ways in which she never could guess what he was doing or why he did it. She couldn’t comprehend his actions and he couldn’t fathom hers, and it’d been that way since they’d known each other, deep in the brush, fog, mist, and clifftops of the World’s Edge, or in the rime and ice of the Basin.
It was as if nothing had ever changed between them in all their time apart. No matter how many edges she’d try to smooth, no matter how many fleeting glances, no matter how much hope she instilled in him (and prayed he’d felt it, even from many miles away), naught had altered. They’d left off where they’d always been – confused, muddled, befuddled by either kindness or some stinging, barbed words that hadn’t meant to be thorns (but hurt nonetheless). Her eyes watched Mortuus Nox go, dissolving into shadows, chased away by false impressions and misreadings. Perhaps they were all poor interpreters.
But Mauja continued to choke out his confusion, and finally her gaze reached back over to him, narrowed down to spots and uncertainty, and her thoughts, her notions, her sentiments wanted to drag him away from this petulant sorrow that seemed to follow him wherever he went. But wasn’t it some of his own doing? Neither she nor Nox had blasted him with insults, had regarded him in rudeness, and still, he’d layered his voice with clips and phrases that rubbed them raw; her head tilted, her smile wore away, and the gentle, serene dip of her song coiled amidst the midnight decadence. “It’s what you say and do.” The boldness, the bluntness, slipped past her and manifested itself as a ghost, as a phantom, of regard and audacity – perhaps she’d lose him here too, and they’d forever be instilled as two more beings who couldn’t shake away their demons, who were always lost in a sea of uncertainty and ineptitude. But he’d wanted to hear it. He’d yearned for an answer, and she’d give it to him.
She didn’t let her frustration ignite, kindle, or incense her words. But it built behind them, along the wall of her chest, across her heart, within her mind, slowly unfurling and rippling, chastising their ridiculousness, their definitions of poor communication. Her voice was quiet and serene, but murmured without sweetness, without sugar, without honey, and instead they chiseled, sculpted, and remained simple and tranquil, rich in candor. She’d spent a lifetime keeping things away from him, funneling and brewing secrets, diversions, thoughts and upheavals – but not this evening. “You tell me I’m fallen. You taunt another.” Imogen remained silent, perhaps wisely so, tails fanning the veiled wind as Lena continued, invoked and incandescent. “What did you think was going to happen?”
[Whee! 500 <333]
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[O] .. och jag såg dig springa över skaren
