The Portal
12-11-2017, 11:48 PM
I wished impossible things on blue stars that never came true
Honesty is a natural feature of youth, as well. Some may believe only fools speak the truth so freely, but I find her uncertainty charming. How long had it been since someone spoke with such genuine apprehension? So many spoke only to bolster themselves in your eyes, and even that was only to garner your strengths for their own use.
Since leaving my seclusion, I had become rather adept at reading the intentions and hearts of others; however, it is no magical power or sight. I am just observant.
This girl, this half-grown goddess of auburn and gold tones, is clearly lost in her painful ride through youth, and now I know why.
I just can't imagine an entire world just disappearing.
So, she is one of the Helovians that Roscorro had mistaken me for. I remember his brief description of what occurred - the Rift had devoured her world. I said it then that this world must be terribly violent and awful, but I cannot imagine what her own eyes had witnessed, what her ears heard, what sort of madness ensued when the fabric of the earth was torn asunder by the ravenous roots of this one. At least now I understood what had caused her heart to rupture.
The previously studious voice in her necklace sounds more like an unpleasant shrew now, and it shocks me out of my silent musings. My eyes are wide, revealing that it was quite the shock to my system, but the girl's eyes are closed, as if she is swallowing some sort of anger before it can escape into the air toward that nagging necklace.
I nod, accepting her forced humor and explanation, watching as she starts to awkwardly pick up our conversation where it had been interrupted. She seems nervous, but I am clueless as to why. I had been fully grown before being thrust into society, so while I am fairly adept at reading others, I fail to understand things remotely related to romance. Women were just other beings to me, with no special purpose.
I missed out entirely on the dreamy illusions of love in my youth. Now, in adulthood, I simply deny the existence of such a gentle feeling.
"You should not wish the impossible, then," I say, my voice austere, perhaps even coming off as cold. My expression does little to weigh in any other direction, since my face always tends to look morose at best. However, my advice stems from my own experiences with the world. It is not meant to make her feel foolish or sound harsh. I simply learned the lesson long ago.
Hope only leads to disappointment when you squander it on the impossible.
"Your world is gone, but you can still make this one your home."
""
Since leaving my seclusion, I had become rather adept at reading the intentions and hearts of others; however, it is no magical power or sight. I am just observant.
This girl, this half-grown goddess of auburn and gold tones, is clearly lost in her painful ride through youth, and now I know why.
I just can't imagine an entire world just disappearing.
So, she is one of the Helovians that Roscorro had mistaken me for. I remember his brief description of what occurred - the Rift had devoured her world. I said it then that this world must be terribly violent and awful, but I cannot imagine what her own eyes had witnessed, what her ears heard, what sort of madness ensued when the fabric of the earth was torn asunder by the ravenous roots of this one. At least now I understood what had caused her heart to rupture.
The previously studious voice in her necklace sounds more like an unpleasant shrew now, and it shocks me out of my silent musings. My eyes are wide, revealing that it was quite the shock to my system, but the girl's eyes are closed, as if she is swallowing some sort of anger before it can escape into the air toward that nagging necklace.
I nod, accepting her forced humor and explanation, watching as she starts to awkwardly pick up our conversation where it had been interrupted. She seems nervous, but I am clueless as to why. I had been fully grown before being thrust into society, so while I am fairly adept at reading others, I fail to understand things remotely related to romance. Women were just other beings to me, with no special purpose.
I missed out entirely on the dreamy illusions of love in my youth. Now, in adulthood, I simply deny the existence of such a gentle feeling.
"You should not wish the impossible, then," I say, my voice austere, perhaps even coming off as cold. My expression does little to weigh in any other direction, since my face always tends to look morose at best. However, my advice stems from my own experiences with the world. It is not meant to make her feel foolish or sound harsh. I simply learned the lesson long ago.
Hope only leads to disappointment when you squander it on the impossible.
"Your world is gone, but you can still make this one your home."
""
RAEIN.
