IT IS HORRIBLE, AND IT IS BEAUTIFUL

Our muses walk around a garden

     ✾ █ ❝ You know I… Am not a big fan of flowers anymore, ❞ Dani admits. As she does so, the woman rubs her arm as her eyes remain downcast, expression becoming melancholy as it often tends to do.

     ❝ But… I don’t know. I guess walking around with someone I trust now really helps with that distaste, ❞

𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨  &.  𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐭.    suburban  july.  scraped  knees.  bruised  knuckles. blood  in  your  teeth.  bare  feet  on  hot  concrete.  restlessness.  your  high  school’s  empty  parking lot.  love  poems  in  your  diary.  a  window  open  to  coax  in  the  breeze.  burning  inside.  an  ill - fitting  party  dress.  a  t - shirt  you  cut  up  yourself.  the  time  you  tried  to  give yourself  bangs. biking  to  your  friends  house. bubble  gum. gas station  ice.  the  feeling  that  you’ve  met  before. rebellion. a  car  radio  playing  down  the  street.  cheap  fireworks. a  heart  drawn  on  the  inside  of  your  wrist  with  a  sharpie.  switchblades.  red  solo  cups.  dancing  in  your  bedroom.  screaming  yourself  hoarse.  running  out  of  options.  the  forlorn  looking  basketball  hoop  at  the  end  of  a  cul - de - sac. climbing  onto  your  roof  at  night  while  your  parents  are asleep. flip - flops.  a  eulogy  written  on  loose - leaf.  the  merciless  noontime  sun.

𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐥𝐞𝐭.   speaking  in  a  whisper.   holding  your  breath. a  browning  garden. a  half  remembered  story. furniture  covered  with  sheets. fog  at  dawn,  mist  at  twilight.  losing  touch. the  ethereal  space  between  winter  and  spring.  the  soft  skin  at  your  temple.  the  crack  in  the  hallway  mirror.  things  you’d  say  if  you  knew  the  words. uncombed  hair.  books  with  writing  in  the  margins.  books  with  cracked  spines.  books  with  lines  scratched  out. prayers  on  all  souls’  day.  a  chipped  ceramic  bathtub. a  cold stone  floor. the  uncomfortable  awareness  of  your  own  heartbeat. the  sparrow  that  got  in  your  house.  shadows.  the  creek  you played  in  as  a  child.  a  dirty  night  gown.  an oversized  t - shirt. a  collection  of  your  favorite  words.  soil beneath  your  nails. ghost  stories. the  strangeness  of  your  own  name  in  your  mouth. deep  silence.  exhaustion. a  cliff  with  a  long,  long  drop  down.

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐭𝐡  𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.   wicker  deck  furniture.  new  england  summer.  large  sunglasses  and  a  blonde  bob. a  storm  over  the  ocean.  patio  umbrellas  flapping  in  the  wind.  the  smell  of  chlorine. muffled  laughter.  sarcasm. starched  cuffs.  day  drinking.  bay  windows. the  idea  of  love.   love  for  the  idea  of  love.  love  for  love’s  sake. hangovers. wandering  over  the  sand  dunes.  a  vagabond  with  a guitar.  fishermen  with  tattoos.  a  pretty boy  with  a  slacked tie.  a  lighthouse.  growing  too  close. boat shoes. feeling  yourself  change. big,  floppy  sunhats. double - speak. a  song  you  keep  listening  to.  turning  red  under  their  gaze.  margaritas  drank  on  an inflatable  pool  lounger.  string  lights  on  a  balmy  night.  sleepy  june  days.  fights  you’re  unprepared  for. hope  you  weren’t  expecting.  pranks  that  go  too  far.  bad  poetry.  pining.  becoming  less  of  a  stranger.

𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡.   the  space  where  your  grief  used  to  be.  a  bird  that’s  lost  an  eye. old  blood  stains.  heavy  blinds.  the  smell  of  sweat.  the  stillness  after  a  battle.  a  fake  smile. a  curse.  the  taste  of  metal  at  the  back  of  your  tongue. your  house,  unfamiliar  in  the  dark. a  dusty  crib.  the  smell  of  sulfur.  an  orange  pill  bottle.  streaks  in  the  sink.  a  black  cocktail  dress.  your  hand  on  the  doorknob,  shaking. a  chilly  breeze.  crunching  from  the  gravel  driveway  on  a  moonless  night. clenched  hands.  a  rusty  swing  set.  a  flashing  digital  clock  stuck  on  12 : 00.  a  snake  that crosses your  path. an  owl  that  watches  you. a  dog  that  runs when  you approach. red  smoke, dark  clouds.  cool  steel. tile  floors. footsteps  in  the  hallway  late  at  night. a  baggy  suit  that  used  to  fit  before.  visions.  insomnia. headaches. nursery  rhymes.  being  too  far  in  to  go  back  now.

𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡  𝐚𝐝𝐨  𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭  𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.   the  high  drama  of  small  towns. a  pickup  truck.  military  supply duffel  bags  in  the  hall,  hugs  all  around. tulip  bulbs. a wraparound  porch.  a  pitcher  of  iced  tea.  a  rubber  halloween mask.  someone  on  your  level.  ill - timed  proclamations. stomach  clenching  laughter. rushing  in. not  minding  your  business. crepe  paper.  white  lies.  secrets  written  down  and  thrown  away.  southern  hospitality.  homemade  curtains  in  the  kitchen.  a  sink  full  of  roses.  hiding  in  the  bushes. old  friends.  the wedding  dress  your  grandma  wore,  and  her  mama  before her.  a dog - eared  rhyming  dictionary.  chamomile  with  honey.  the intimacy  of  big  parties.  lawn  flamingos.  gossip.  a  crowded  church. friendly  rivalries. unfriendly  rivalries.  stuff getting  real.  love  at  five  hundredth  sight.  not  realizing  you’re  home  until  you’re  there.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫.   cement  block  buildings.  power  lines  that  birds  never  perch  on. the  end  of  the  world.  useless  words.  rainless  thunder,  heat  lighting,  a  too  big  sky.  arthritic  knuckles.  broken  glass.  chalk  cliffs.  the  pulsing  red - black  behind  closed  eyes.  something  you  learned  too  late.  wet  mud  that  sucks  up  your  shoes  while  you  walk. a  cold  stare. empty  picture  frames. empty  prayers.  the  obscenity  of  seeing  your  parents  cry.  a  treeless  landscape.  bloody  rags.  grappling  in  the  dark  with  reaching  hands. the sharpness  at  the  the  tips  of  your  teeth. the  blown  out windows  of  a  skeletal  house. decay.  jokes  that  aren’t  jokes. biting  your  tongue.  prophecies.  aching  muscles,  tired  feet. stinging  rain.  invoking  the  gods.  wondering  if  the  gods  are  listening. worrying  that  the  gods  are  dead. white  noise. shivers.  numbness.  the  unequivocal  feeling  of  ending.

𝐚  𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫  𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭’𝐬  𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦.   the  smell  of  wet  soil  and  dead  leaves. listening  to  music  on  headphones  with  your  eyes  closed.  wildflowers.  the  distant  sparkle  of  lightning  bugs.  fear  that  turns  into excitement. excitement  that  turns  to  frenzy.  mossy  tree  trunks.  a  pair  of  yellow  eyes  in  the  darkness.  night  swimming.  moonlight  through  the  leaves. a  bass  beat  in  your  chest.  a  butterfly  landing  on  your  nose.  a  kiss  from  a  stranger.  a  dark  hallow  in  an  old  tree.  glow  in  the  dark  paint. drinking  on  an  empty  stomach. a  twig  breaking  behind  you. spinning  until  you’re  dizzy.  finding  glitter  on  your  body  and  not  remembering  where  it  came  from.  an  overgrown  path  through  the  woods.  cool  dew  on  your  skin.  a  dream  that  fades  with  waking.  moths  drawn  to  the  light.  giving  yourself  over,  completely. afterglow.  the  long,  loving,  velvety  night.

              ❝   There’s bound to be a place to eat nearby — I’ll do the eating, you can focus on the drinking.   ❞   

        DESPITE   the firm language, her tone’s as soft as she can manage — bobbing just above a murmur. Turquoise eyes are shrewd, veering toward hazel in such overcast weather; they flit along the stranger’s features and posture, as if it might tell her anything she hasn’t already figured out. 

               ❝   We don’t have to talk about it — or about anything, really. But no matter what’s going on, it’s clear you’re new to this place on top of it… So consider this one less thing to try and figure out yourself.  ❞   Her tone has finally risen back to a normal level — doing what she can to avoid giving an air of coddling or condescension. It’s a fine line in times like this; too much sympathy can do more harm than good. But a random act of kindness is fair game, right ?

              ❝   My name is Aelin Galathynius. Yours ?  ❞

     ✾ █ AT the woman’s response, the blonde somehow manages a breathy, weak chuckle in return. Though her eyes remain downcast, the small smile Dani now gives seems genuine. Of course, she appreciates the stranger’s kindness... Even if she’s still extremely embarrassed and ashamed that she had to see the remnants of Dani’s panic moments earlier.

     ❝ … Thank you, ❞ finally she says after some silence.

     ❝ It’s, uh. It’s nice to meet you, Aelin, ❞ now she holds out her hand, at first a bit unsure, as her gaze finally meets that of the other’s once more. Though it’s clear she’s still a little shaken from before, it’s clear that Dani is making an effort as evidence by the smile on her face.

Our muses get stuck in the rain

     ✾ █ IT hadn’t been her intention to bump into the familiar man once more and yet, Dani can’t say she’s unhappy about encountering him again. Though he is always silent and almost unreadable, there is a certain comfort that his presence brings to the blonde. Perhaps it is simply due to the fact that he has saved her life without question once before… Or perhaps it is because of something else’ sincerely, she couldn’t say for sure. 

     The only thing she knows for certain is that his company is always welcome.

     ❝ Fortunately, I have a travel umbrella! ❞ Dani now tells the other, taking it out of her purse.

“Huh, where’d you hear that? I…I thought spring was right around the corner..” Evidently, he hadn’t been tuning into the Spirale weather channel.

     ✾ █ ❝ Oh, no! I just mean that... ❞

       SELDOM DOES HE WELCOME THAT WHICH SERVES LITTLE PURPOSE; it seemed foolish to entertain something without reason, thus dictated his pragmatism. gingerly raising the lid of the box, he attempted to make sense of her explanation. perhaps something designed for the sole purpose of sustenance? it smelled… sweet, like nothing he had known before. he did not understand the need for such fleeting joys and decadence, for his existence has been built upon far less. he did not know indulgence, only necessity— this was no weapon, nor blessing to further his goal, but something small, expendable… but not without significance however, something that one glance upon her sincerity gleaned in an instant.

       with one last lingering stare, the penitent turned away from her to retrieve his helm from the dirt, and replace it over his head. he knew not her name, nor why she bothered with his affairs, but nonetheless, he accepted her offer, slowly and with a delicacy unbecoming his calloused hands, he lifted the box from her palm.

       perhaps with this, she would concern herself with him no longer, and be free of the obligation that plagued her conscience. he is but a nameless, voiceless stranger— just another of the many whose fate it is to seek their penance and, if the miracle wills it, die like the rest. 

     ✾ █ HE’S fascinating to watch, in a way. He always seems so thoughtful with his every movement and now that his expressions are visible to Dani, she can see how he seems to be puzzled by each and every new thing. It’s a little endearing, she thinks, how he is so hesitant to receive the gift and unsure if he should or not. Truthfully, she’s sure she would act the same way with a sudden present and thus, doesn’t rush the other in his actions.

     ❝ Just make sure you eat it soon or else it will get stale, ❞ she now tells him with a nod, hoping that he eats it and not just... Throw it out later. Though if he did, she supposes she wouldn’t blame him.

     ❝ I think I’ll sit here for a bit and-- oh! ❞ as Dani seats herself on the grass now, her eyes widen at a sudden realization.

           SUDDEN   wave of nausea. Sounds familiar. It all clicks together immediately, to a discomforting degree — the wave of nausea, the pale features, the look of extreme distress over seemingly nothing at all. … Still, it isn’t her place to push it further — and this is one of the few cases in which she won’t push where she isn’t needed. Still, this pang — this tugging sense of empathy in her gut — refuses to let her stay entirely silent.

                 ❝   It’s agonizing when our faces give everything away. I won’t bother you if you need time to yourself…  ❞   Aelin trails off for a moment, gaze flitting along her form — making sure, from an outside perspective, she’s unharmed.  ❝   But you’ll want something to eat soon. It helps with the shakes that come after. Water, too.   ❞

     ✾ █ HER gaze remains glued onto her shoes but the moment the stranger vocalizes she is aware of Dani’s predicament, she shrinks slightly into herself. She knows it’s obvious from her mannerisms alone but even so, to be called out so easily... It makes the blonde feel very helpless and foolish.

     ❝ ... It’s alright; you don’t need to worry about me, ❞ she finally replies after some silence, finally looking back up to meet the stranger’s gaze.

       AND THUS HE CONTEMPLATES THESE HAPPENINGS OF LATE ALONE, far away from the prying eyes and murmuring lips of the many to better know his thoughts. searching his reflection dancing across the water’s surface, as if he might find answers in its expressionless, blood-soaked visage, in its cold, haunted stare, the penitent would instead find nothing but his own tired face looking back. there was nothing in those eyes.

       at which point, he simply reached into it, shattering his image and bringing the water to his lips. it soothed his ragged throat, an icy balm tenderly kissing the drought parching his gullet, healing his thirst. his solitude was only fleeting however, when a voice encroached upon his silence… and yet, he felt little need for caution. instead, the nameless soldier merely raised his head at first, acknowledging her presence, before rising to his feet, and angling toward her.

       after a moment regarding her smile, his note then shifted to the small box she proffered unto him, where it lingered. he appeared… uncertain; almost perturbed by the kindness, briefly probing the gift before meeting with her gaze once again, the faintest glimmer of a question flickering in his eyes.

     ✾ █ IT’S a little strange to see him without adorning his usual helm... However, it’s something Dani finds to be welcome. Perhaps she had forgotten that a human lay beneath all that armour, bruises and dried blood so to finally see his face... Well, she can’t help but smile a little brighter because of that.

     ❝ Yes, it’s for you, I said! ❞ she insists with a smile, motioning it forward for him to take. If he dares to peek inside, the Penitent One will find a single cupcake within the box; vanilla frosting and a maraschino cherry on top.

     ❝ I thought you’d reject a lot of gifts... So I decided to go with food! Well... Even though I don’t know what foods you like, ❞ she trails off for a moment, thinking to herself before she blinks and lays her blue eyes back at the other.