because i can:
Oddly, it was not the sound of his voice that brought her up short, but the scent of his cigarette. It hit her like a mack truck going 90 down an interstate. An odd blend of different tobaccos made especially for him. Like wood smoke on a crisp autumn night; The aroma tweaked her primordial memories hard enough to almost make her cry out in pain. His cigarettes were hand rolled, so she knew, knew without doubt, that he had to be near. Near enough to her that were she to turn and reach out her hand, he would be within close proximity of that appendage. She clenched her fists at her sides, fighting the urge to do exactly that.
Nor did she turn, though her soul screamed at her to do so. It cried and tore at with ethereal fingers, begging for the sight of him. Like a dying man would crave the apparition of a savior he had not believed in until the moment death stood with bony fingers upon his shoulder. But Tryst stood as silent as a statue. The only clue to her life a restless and shallow river of breath that flowed in spite of her effort to still it.
Control had not been her strong suit these last few months. There were lots of reasons why, but did they really matter to anyone but her? Did they matter to the man standing right behind her now? Doubtful. But she fought, fought harder than she had in a very long time. Fought for any spark of the old Tryst that resided within this shattered, burned out husk of a woman. Harder then she'd fought for her life...because truly, her life didn't mean as much to her as this one pivotal moment.
An eon formed of a single moment, 60 forever seconds passed. Her heart pounding in her ears, pumping a rush of blood that caused her pale cheeks to flush with the hope of life returning. What single thing could she say that would speak of the emotions she held in check.
In that silence she heard him exhale. A breath of smoke given freedom to twine it's lazy, haphazard way toward the ceiling. Without moving, her dawn grey gaze rose to follow its path. And there she saw more of Nat then she had seen in over two years. She watched as it traveled up and over her head, a blackness against the beams. It seemed to her she saw his face embedded within that breath of released smoke. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as the sardonic grin that perpetually rode his lips settled in place.
Tryst's mind reeled. She knew she should respond to him, say something, anything. She wished, not for the first time, that she had the cleverness of mind, the caustic wit, she once owned. Instead her lips went dry and her tongue refused to work. Standing mute, her head tipped slightly upward as her eyes clung to the apparition of a man she once knew better than she knew herself*
Nor did she turn, though her soul screamed at her to do so. It cried and tore at with ethereal fingers, begging for the sight of him. Like a dying man would crave the apparition of a savior he had not believed in until the moment death stood with bony fingers upon his shoulder. But Tryst stood as silent as a statue. The only clue to her life a restless and shallow river of breath that flowed in spite of her effort to still it.
Control had not been her strong suit these last few months. There were lots of reasons why, but did they really matter to anyone but her? Did they matter to the man standing right behind her now? Doubtful. But she fought, fought harder than she had in a very long time. Fought for any spark of the old Tryst that resided within this shattered, burned out husk of a woman. Harder then she'd fought for her life...because truly, her life didn't mean as much to her as this one pivotal moment.
An eon formed of a single moment, 60 forever seconds passed. Her heart pounding in her ears, pumping a rush of blood that caused her pale cheeks to flush with the hope of life returning. What single thing could she say that would speak of the emotions she held in check.
In that silence she heard him exhale. A breath of smoke given freedom to twine it's lazy, haphazard way toward the ceiling. Without moving, her dawn grey gaze rose to follow its path. And there she saw more of Nat then she had seen in over two years. She watched as it traveled up and over her head, a blackness against the beams. It seemed to her she saw his face embedded within that breath of released smoke. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as the sardonic grin that perpetually rode his lips settled in place.
Tryst's mind reeled. She knew she should respond to him, say something, anything. She wished, not for the first time, that she had the cleverness of mind, the caustic wit, she once owned. Instead her lips went dry and her tongue refused to work. Standing mute, her head tipped slightly upward as her eyes clung to the apparition of a man she once knew better than she knew herself*