(no subject)
[ooc: Not totally plotlocked, but please ping before tagging!]
Outside, there is a distinctly April chill to the night air that causes Nick to pull his coat close against his frame and shiver just slightly.
Were Blodwen still here, he's sure he would feel no such chill.
The fact remains, however, that she is once again gone from this place, this fringe of reality where worlds blur together and fate changes as quickly as the month's weather and again, he has been left to the solitude of his own thoughts.
But it's different, now. Things have changed. Prior to their last meeting only one night ago, Nick's thoughts would have turned to the memories of his home, his disappointments in those he spoke so dearly of as friends, how he so cowardly fled the only family he had left once the opportunity to start anew here once again presented itself. Now, though, he thinks of blue eyes and soft laughter and the warmth he feels from blue sweaters and the cautious way in which hands touch.
And as he thinks of those things, he stands rigidly at the lakeside, staring off into the distance with coattails quivering in the wind and a small smile on his face.
Outside, there is a distinctly April chill to the night air that causes Nick to pull his coat close against his frame and shiver just slightly.
Were Blodwen still here, he's sure he would feel no such chill.
The fact remains, however, that she is once again gone from this place, this fringe of reality where worlds blur together and fate changes as quickly as the month's weather and again, he has been left to the solitude of his own thoughts.
But it's different, now. Things have changed. Prior to their last meeting only one night ago, Nick's thoughts would have turned to the memories of his home, his disappointments in those he spoke so dearly of as friends, how he so cowardly fled the only family he had left once the opportunity to start anew here once again presented itself. Now, though, he thinks of blue eyes and soft laughter and the warmth he feels from blue sweaters and the cautious way in which hands touch.
And as he thinks of those things, he stands rigidly at the lakeside, staring off into the distance with coattails quivering in the wind and a small smile on his face.