[fic] Wisteria: Chapter IV
Title: Wisteria
Notes: See Chapter I.
Summary: Childhood is grand, but everyone has to grow up sometime.
Chapter IV
Faust talks about another knight sometimes and she would almost be jealous, because those two share memories that she can never touch. He smiles when he talk about his friend, but there is also heartbreak in his eyes and her own heart aches for him (his tiny pains and tiny sorrows that she will never know etch themselves onto her soul), since she does not think he sees it.
He misses the friend he talks about and even when he is in her arms, even when it feels like her heart is screaming yes, yes, this is home, this is perfect and she can see it reflected in his eyes, she thinks that maybe she will never be enough for him. Maybe being a princess, as beautiful as she is said to be, maybe being her own self, as slow and useless and hopelessly in love as she is, she will not be enough for him. There are holes in his life that she does not think she has a right to fill and somehow the image of Min, fallen and bloody in that cage of mortar and stone, reaching for them, flickers on the back of her eyelids.
Maybe she will never be what she needs to be for him, but the princess' heart swells so full of simple joy at the sight of his face that she thinks she would do anything for this man. The poetry she used to study told her that love was a miraculous thing - a force as fragile and malleable as a summer cloud, but tumultuous, iron clad, fearful, yet brave. She finds that love is woven from pain and doubt, threaded by her own irrationalities and intimate agonies.
She finds that love tastes of rain and salt and a metallic undertone that slips in like grey mist; fragrant as the summer harvest, warmed by the innate wonder of living.
Her lashes flutter unwillingly to the drum of her heart and she grips the image of Faust's face with her mind. She recalls the heat of his touches, so small and tiny, but they seared her skin and the shadows of them are almost real; she can feel his arms around her, the weightless lift of air and water streaming around them - her lips tingle with the kiss they shared under countless stars. Their love is as furtive and plain as moonlight, constant, faithful even in when the sun rules the sky, and always, always she carries it with her.
There will come a day when she might never see him again, but this love is hers, even if he does not want it, and it will last her a lifetime.
Notes: See Chapter I.
Summary: Childhood is grand, but everyone has to grow up sometime.
Chapter IV
Faust talks about another knight sometimes and she would almost be jealous, because those two share memories that she can never touch. He smiles when he talk about his friend, but there is also heartbreak in his eyes and her own heart aches for him (his tiny pains and tiny sorrows that she will never know etch themselves onto her soul), since she does not think he sees it.
He misses the friend he talks about and even when he is in her arms, even when it feels like her heart is screaming yes, yes, this is home, this is perfect and she can see it reflected in his eyes, she thinks that maybe she will never be enough for him. Maybe being a princess, as beautiful as she is said to be, maybe being her own self, as slow and useless and hopelessly in love as she is, she will not be enough for him. There are holes in his life that she does not think she has a right to fill and somehow the image of Min, fallen and bloody in that cage of mortar and stone, reaching for them, flickers on the back of her eyelids.
Maybe she will never be what she needs to be for him, but the princess' heart swells so full of simple joy at the sight of his face that she thinks she would do anything for this man. The poetry she used to study told her that love was a miraculous thing - a force as fragile and malleable as a summer cloud, but tumultuous, iron clad, fearful, yet brave. She finds that love is woven from pain and doubt, threaded by her own irrationalities and intimate agonies.
She finds that love tastes of rain and salt and a metallic undertone that slips in like grey mist; fragrant as the summer harvest, warmed by the innate wonder of living.
Her lashes flutter unwillingly to the drum of her heart and she grips the image of Faust's face with her mind. She recalls the heat of his touches, so small and tiny, but they seared her skin and the shadows of them are almost real; she can feel his arms around her, the weightless lift of air and water streaming around them - her lips tingle with the kiss they shared under countless stars. Their love is as furtive and plain as moonlight, constant, faithful even in when the sun rules the sky, and always, always she carries it with her.
There will come a day when she might never see him again, but this love is hers, even if he does not want it, and it will last her a lifetime.
- she is made from his smiles and kisses and so love is the discovery that one is not one nor two, but the curious wonder of both and neither.