something that transpires a bit too acutely when she catches his stare, when her pulse starts going like some bird in an ivory cage, all beating wings and restrained panic that puts her ill at ease.
she's been too out of it for days in this place to withhold all reaction, to keep an instinct buried instead of flowing out in a slivered pulse of technicolor, just to read an imminent threat for what it is. steady, and of course he is, still standing with his arm held carefully at his side and keeping her supported with her grip still dragging into his sleeve.
it's just the rest of what she feels at once ā fear, duress, resolve ā that sharpens to a razor-bladed loathing that fixes down to a single point.
it feels like she's on the other side of it with his stare. the small, sharp breath she takes, and the full step back must come a little jerky, a little awkward when she's suddenly less mindful of the couple on the countertop and the broken glass at her feet than she is of giving him a wide enough breadth for the feeling in his unspoken request.
because she could swear in that moment of feeling: he didn't want to be touched. )
Iā
... I'm a Halovian. ( simple enough, with her paler face and her eyes kept on his dangerous expression. maybe even a devil would think to run.
but her wings curl inward, closer to her throat, and the look of it's made smaller because of it. her halo winks unseen above her head, like the punchline of a joke. ) I know that most of us aren't from the same world, with the same meanings...
What would a Devil be ā what would it look like to you?
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something that transpires a bit too acutely when she catches his stare, when her pulse starts going like some bird in an ivory cage, all beating wings and restrained panic that puts her ill at ease.
she's been too out of it for days in this place to withhold all reaction, to keep an instinct buried instead of flowing out in a slivered pulse of technicolor, just to read an imminent threat for what it is. steady, and of course he is, still standing with his arm held carefully at his side and keeping her supported with her grip still dragging into his sleeve.
it's just the rest of what she feels at once ā fear, duress, resolve ā that sharpens to a razor-bladed loathing that fixes down to a single point.
it feels like she's on the other side of it with his stare. the small, sharp breath she takes, and the full step back must come a little jerky, a little awkward when she's suddenly less mindful of the couple on the countertop and the broken glass at her feet than she is of giving him a wide enough breadth for the feeling in his unspoken request.
because she could swear in that moment of feeling: he didn't want to be touched. )
Iā
... I'm a Halovian. ( simple enough, with her paler face and her eyes kept on his dangerous expression. maybe even a devil would think to run.
but her wings curl inward, closer to her throat, and the look of it's made smaller because of it. her halo winks unseen above her head, like the punchline of a joke. ) I know that most of us aren't from the same world, with the same meanings...
What would a Devil be ā what would it look like to you?