|.
Dear sweet mother of the maiden grass: was this really happening.
It didn't feel like a dream, but this wasn't any reality he had ever experienced either. He felt disconnected, as if he was watching everything unfold from behind himself, playing witness while someone else was in control of his body. His hand reached out, gently brushing the hair that Khara had toyed with in her usual brand of nervous distraction, tucking it aside behind her ear. All the hallmarks of normalcy were there, the way that Khara avoided his gaze, that bite of her lip; and yet somehow everything was different, as if everything suddenly had some new meaning that he hadn't comprehended before. There was something almost playful, almost teasing, almost flirtatious; so many almost things that were all equally and extremely unbelievable. There was no way that Khara - the girl who insisted that she wanted them to remain as they were forever, as friends and nothing else, the girl who until recently had struggled to be herself around him - could ever act that way about him. Yet when she had been at her saddest and most vulnerable, he had been the one person in Wind Reach that she had come to, the one person she said that she felt safe with. It was her who had invited him to share an intimate evening when the Watchtowers had changed; and then there was the way they had fallen at the lakes; the way they had awoken this morning; all those embraces, those moments of contact, those held hands, those lingering looks that he had always dismissed as being merely nervous glances. His insides writhed at the possibility of what might be: the prospect of waking beside her again and again; of enjoying the feel of her weight against him without the feeling of guilt that went alongside; of being able to take hold of her hand every time his fingers ached to; of being able to gaze into her eyes whenever he wanted without having to force himself to look away; to smile at her the way he always wanted to smile; to say the many thousands of things that threatened to burst out of his chest every second.
But no. It wasn't like that between them. Was it?
Of course it wasn't. Not after what had happened. Not after the reason that had brought her to his room that night. Not amid all the hurt and sadness and damage she still felt because of it. And, most of all, not because of who he was, what he was. An Avora had done that to her, just like so many did to so many others; an Avora, the same as Zhol. No matter how much Zhol wanted her to, it never quite seemed like Khara completely forgot that was what he was; and that, more than anything else, was why it wasn't like that between them. That was why it never could be.
But right now? He'd happily saw off his own leg and make himself a drudge, if it meant he could move just one inch closer to her, and ease the devastating, aching tightness in his chest.
He realised how long his fingers had lingered against Khara's cheek, not having strayed the way he'd expected them to after adjusting her hair. He tore them away slowly, fighting against the panicked urge to wrench his hand away in apologetic horror; letting it brush briefly across her shoulder and settle lightly against her arm; somehow managing to act as if it was the calmest, most natural thing that anyone had ever done.
"That sounds nice," he agreed, not entirely sure who was choosing his words for him, not entirely familiar with the tone in his voice, either. A warm smile graced his features, joy at being able to see her eyes again. "We can do anything you want."
It didn't feel like a dream, but this wasn't any reality he had ever experienced either. He felt disconnected, as if he was watching everything unfold from behind himself, playing witness while someone else was in control of his body. His hand reached out, gently brushing the hair that Khara had toyed with in her usual brand of nervous distraction, tucking it aside behind her ear. All the hallmarks of normalcy were there, the way that Khara avoided his gaze, that bite of her lip; and yet somehow everything was different, as if everything suddenly had some new meaning that he hadn't comprehended before. There was something almost playful, almost teasing, almost flirtatious; so many almost things that were all equally and extremely unbelievable. There was no way that Khara - the girl who insisted that she wanted them to remain as they were forever, as friends and nothing else, the girl who until recently had struggled to be herself around him - could ever act that way about him. Yet when she had been at her saddest and most vulnerable, he had been the one person in Wind Reach that she had come to, the one person she said that she felt safe with. It was her who had invited him to share an intimate evening when the Watchtowers had changed; and then there was the way they had fallen at the lakes; the way they had awoken this morning; all those embraces, those moments of contact, those held hands, those lingering looks that he had always dismissed as being merely nervous glances. His insides writhed at the possibility of what might be: the prospect of waking beside her again and again; of enjoying the feel of her weight against him without the feeling of guilt that went alongside; of being able to take hold of her hand every time his fingers ached to; of being able to gaze into her eyes whenever he wanted without having to force himself to look away; to smile at her the way he always wanted to smile; to say the many thousands of things that threatened to burst out of his chest every second.
But no. It wasn't like that between them. Was it?
Of course it wasn't. Not after what had happened. Not after the reason that had brought her to his room that night. Not amid all the hurt and sadness and damage she still felt because of it. And, most of all, not because of who he was, what he was. An Avora had done that to her, just like so many did to so many others; an Avora, the same as Zhol. No matter how much Zhol wanted her to, it never quite seemed like Khara completely forgot that was what he was; and that, more than anything else, was why it wasn't like that between them. That was why it never could be.
But right now? He'd happily saw off his own leg and make himself a drudge, if it meant he could move just one inch closer to her, and ease the devastating, aching tightness in his chest.
He realised how long his fingers had lingered against Khara's cheek, not having strayed the way he'd expected them to after adjusting her hair. He tore them away slowly, fighting against the panicked urge to wrench his hand away in apologetic horror; letting it brush briefly across her shoulder and settle lightly against her arm; somehow managing to act as if it was the calmest, most natural thing that anyone had ever done.
"That sounds nice," he agreed, not entirely sure who was choosing his words for him, not entirely familiar with the tone in his voice, either. A warm smile graced his features, joy at being able to see her eyes again. "We can do anything you want."
"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
Dad Thoughts | Dinah Thoughts | Khara Thoughts
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This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.
Dad Thoughts | Dinah Thoughts | Khara Thoughts
...
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.
