 C.R.E.A.M | Haitian Sensation | Shark Patronus | Your Huckleberry | T's ClayBaby
Her simple recap charged his memories and he recalled, more clearly now how it had been. He could almost smell the sherbert ice cream. How kind she was. Gentle and reserved in her judgement, and unafraid of him too. These should've been happy thoughts, but instead they wrangled his hurt to the surface. There was NOTHING ever that he could've done to have deserved her. And he knew it like he knew the sun rises and sets. But did she know it?
"Well, of course I didn't." And don't you know why?
"You understood, Syndil. You knew everything. And yet you still..." He had to chose this word carefully. Too casual could be dismissive, too impassioned could put him in a worse hole via implying he willingly tossed something of great value. Though, when he realized this was the truth of the situation he was less inclined to steer away from this implication entirely. "Wanted to be near me. I've never had that before and I've not had that since."
His hand reached up and he placed it on her shoulder. Briefly enough to offer an affectionate squeeze and a small glimpse of things like images of gates formed of soggy tea leaves at the bottom of chinaware cups, the impoverished trappings of a rough borough and the ceiling of St. Mungos during multiple times of day, perhaps multiple times a year. |