( how helpful he is in earnest. selfless and effortlessly charismatic. robin has talked to show hosts with a similar stage presence, although she supposes those motives are likely geared towards entertainment than a complete disavowal of ulterior circumstance. funny how that grounds her β she's an actress, her smile proper and her speech polished, prepping for the blinding lights and the leading interview. let's get this show on the road.
only this time, she feels like she's the one stationed behind the camera, watching this man cater to another stranger until help's been duly secured by way of the hotel staff. reading him like this reverberates warmth, the evocative sound she sometimes hears when she's amidst volunteers in some far-off corner of the universe, finding peace in like-minded company.
but the car door clicks shut with some kind of finality, his attention trained on her in this enclosed space. and ah β there it is again. )
As the map on this handcuff of mine describes?
( as she lifts her wrist and the watch wrapped around it, red streaky marks on the skin where she must have tried to wrench it off to no avail. it isn't this conversation she wants, she supposes, when she's still blinking stars out of her vision. that impossible tide of light washing back over her like harmony's refraction. the paradisaical strokes of infinite color, not flashes of a warning, but still fit enough to swallow her wholeβ
it's her own tuning reflected back at her. but it also isn't. less jarring the second time around, somehow, when they both must want the same thing and find it curious. but a mirror will reflect a mirror will reflect a mirror... and an echo will only inevitably repeat the same sound.
and where there is an echo, there must also be vast, empty space. but the reality is, she's still here, sitting in that silent beat before resonance with the warmest stranger she's ever met. )
How gracious of our hosts. And so creative too.
If it's that kind of show they're after, usually directors only offer a cold bed and at least one other paid body. ( that's... pretty glib when all is said and done. the feathers along each ear unfurl with her bad humor, ruffled, a little, and unruly from washes of emotion she doesn't seem to know what to do with. ) Fifty-two... seems a bit much for the price of a check-out to a stay I don't recall signing up for.
no subject
only this time, she feels like she's the one stationed behind the camera, watching this man cater to another stranger until help's been duly secured by way of the hotel staff. reading him like this reverberates warmth, the evocative sound she sometimes hears when she's amidst volunteers in some far-off corner of the universe, finding peace in like-minded company.
but the car door clicks shut with some kind of finality, his attention trained on her in this enclosed space. and ah β there it is again. )
As the map on this handcuff of mine describes?
( as she lifts her wrist and the watch wrapped around it, red streaky marks on the skin where she must have tried to wrench it off to no avail. it isn't this conversation she wants, she supposes, when she's still blinking stars out of her vision. that impossible tide of light washing back over her like harmony's refraction. the paradisaical strokes of infinite color, not flashes of a warning, but still fit enough to swallow her wholeβ
it's her own tuning reflected back at her. but it also isn't. less jarring the second time around, somehow, when they both must want the same thing and find it curious. but a mirror will reflect a mirror will reflect a mirror... and an echo will only inevitably repeat the same sound.
and where there is an echo, there must also be vast, empty space. but the reality is, she's still here, sitting in that silent beat before resonance with the warmest stranger she's ever met. )
How gracious of our hosts. And so creative too.
If it's that kind of show they're after, usually directors only offer a cold bed and at least one other paid body. ( that's... pretty glib when all is said and done. the feathers along each ear unfurl with her bad humor, ruffled, a little, and unruly from washes of emotion she doesn't seem to know what to do with. ) Fifty-two... seems a bit much for the price of a check-out to a stay I don't recall signing up for.