"Yeah," she says softly, and in that moment, she thinks she might
understand him a little better, even with so few words exchanged between
them. She had wanted to "help," mostly so that she could get something out
of this arrangement, but she hadn't really thought that she could ...
actually help. She hadn't thought through what this might do, for him, or
that it might clue her in to his depth - she hadn't even been sure that
there had really been much depth, at one point.
But then - that was when she thought she was better than most people. It's
only now, watching Mick watch the fire, that it really cements the fact
that she isn't. That maybe, just maybe ... she had judged him far too
quickly, not just back home, but when she'd arrived here. It kind of makes
her wonder who else she owes the benefit of the doubt.
But she knows the answer to that question already, too.
She keeps watching the fire, as it throws both sparks and shadows, as it
consumes the wood and transforms it to ash, the hot grey flakes blowing in
the breeze that whips through the air. It isn't just destructive. It's
change. It's cleansing. It's renewal.
She feels her throat tighten, her eyes stinging as she closes them and
breathes in deep, hot acrid air filling her lungs, and her own power
immediately cooling her from inside - but still leaving her heart free to
beat. Goodbyes are so damn hard, she thinks, and she takes her sweet time
in putting this one out - first just taking in the ambient energy, so she
can let the flames burn as long as possible, just making them smaller and
smaller with cooler air, the pale dusting of sparkling crystals, and
finally the kind of soft, fluffy snow that's almost indistinguishable from
the ashes in the air. It keeps falling even after she stops concentrating,
and finally, she turns to look at him again, a wordless question in her
eyes, and frozen tears on her lashes.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-12-13 08:08 am (UTC)"Yeah," she says softly, and in that moment, she thinks she might understand him a little better, even with so few words exchanged between them. She had wanted to "help," mostly so that she could get something out of this arrangement, but she hadn't really thought that she could ... actually help. She hadn't thought through what this might do, for him, or that it might clue her in to his depth - she hadn't even been sure that there had really been much depth, at one point.
But then - that was when she thought she was better than most people. It's only now, watching Mick watch the fire, that it really cements the fact that she isn't. That maybe, just maybe ... she had judged him far too quickly, not just back home, but when she'd arrived here. It kind of makes her wonder who else she owes the benefit of the doubt.
But she knows the answer to that question already, too.
She keeps watching the fire, as it throws both sparks and shadows, as it consumes the wood and transforms it to ash, the hot grey flakes blowing in the breeze that whips through the air. It isn't just destructive. It's change. It's cleansing. It's renewal.
She feels her throat tighten, her eyes stinging as she closes them and breathes in deep, hot acrid air filling her lungs, and her own power immediately cooling her from inside - but still leaving her heart free to beat. Goodbyes are so damn hard, she thinks, and she takes her sweet time in putting this one out - first just taking in the ambient energy, so she can let the flames burn as long as possible, just making them smaller and smaller with cooler air, the pale dusting of sparkling crystals, and finally the kind of soft, fluffy snow that's almost indistinguishable from the ashes in the air. It keeps falling even after she stops concentrating, and finally, she turns to look at him again, a wordless question in her eyes, and frozen tears on her lashes.