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Posted: May 27 2017, 07:59 AM
puppeted by Eien
GMT +1 he/him
kitchen help + cabaret singer
I won't compromise, I won't live a life, on my knees. You think I am nothing, I am nothing, you've got something coming, something coming because (We are indigos)
sweet sooty muffin
And they were leaving. The mystery of his flower weaving left at this, Drew scurried to find himself a pair of shoes and scan his surroundings for anything he may have forgotten. The pseudo pendant. Ha. Seeing as he’d not really walked here with anything, there wasn’t anything to recover. Come to think of it, wasn’t it a bit careless to randomly decide a sleepover was happening? Not to mention one in another realm, an idea as great as it’d been when it was made though in hindsight, Drew did color it with a bit of shame. Shaaame, he told himself, feel shame for acting on whim, but shame, his mind said, would not be felt; he’d have a lot less scars if he knew how to harness that emotion on time.
They walked out.
He looked at her as she addressed him. The streets were long, their faces familiar and structure all too human not to drop the guard down by the choice of the environment. He looked at her, though the pretty lanes they passed pushed for his glances. Tempted him in all manner of shapes as though flutes playing and the tones dripping come here. A message woven into the air. He ignored them, actually ignored them, though peripherally he seemed to understand that he bore witness to horror wrapped in a friendly face. She had warned him, after all, this woman about her world, its evils normally coated in sugar, berries ripe and filled with poison. A figure of speech in which good met with evil and death, as he’d tell you, appeared as something almost worth it and twice the horror. If you rushed forward, certain you encountered heaven, wasn’t it fitting you dived into the rock red bottom?
Hell surely was of that color.
Drew smiled at her, and had so many words.
He wouldn’t share them at all.
Faced her at some point, perhaps about to deliver another hug that trained her. Let her become accustomed to his touch until the day arrived she sought it out.
On her own.
Out of love.
And looked at her, head bowed and the city almost over with, and the woods there, at their back. At his. Black and looming. Their route out back wasn’t one which he anticipated. He kept his features humbled and mellow, and continued to face her like she needed to see him at his softest. At this stage of a silent battle as he waged a war between the old mores and the new. The old that wanted him to bicker, self-hate his best partner, and the new that were entirely the doing of the people he’d recently encountered, and that said to be mellow.
His new friends made him give himself out enough he had little spare for his normal destructive fun.
He looked up.
The sun in his squinting warm eyes and his smile sardonic and wry, he looked at Ophelia, and said, “Thank you. I’m proud of me too, somewhat. For a moment. I shouldn’t have said that. Let’s just… keep it at thank you. I’m proud of me, too. And I'm proud of us, too, even of you.”
He side-stepped around her. Sidled himself up to her, and hooked their arms once more.
They walked together, until the forest shrouded them, and the sun was blocked.
He squinted no more.
The usual transitional fog of the portal came into view, and the entire journey Drew Hunter spent looking at her, no more lascivious than he was full of anger.
Drew was looking at Ophelia with warm affection.
"Let's go home."
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