( that's me, i'm all soul )

𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕒 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝:

❝ she would have swallowed the sun to make you warm enough. she was nothing but love. she was nothing but love.❞

dominic would’ve been quick to agree to her terms, no argument, until sage changed their trek with a claim of not wanting to risk him causing her harm. a hand went to his chest and he scoffed in mock hurt, and he shook his head in disbelief. “i can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing. you really think i’d use a rusty axe? at least have a little more faith in me.. i would have more pizazz than that.”

.

Sage laughed, crashing easily into Dominic’s side. “I forgot, you’re too good for regular tools. Something gilded then, that’s what you’d use to chop me up, fertilizer-style.” Dark eyes cast over at him, and her brow canted. “Be honest, have you ever actually used garden tools? I feel like you’re not the type, I’m getting zero salt of the earth vibes.”

the touch of sage’s forehead to her own has a sweet sigh escaping peach’s lips, her words seeming to have a double meaning that peach tucks into the space in her heart reserved solely for the girl in front of her. she melts into sage’s touch instinctively, letting out a soft hum as she tips forward so that their lips are hovering, just barely touching as their breaths mingle, soft words spoken against them. “paint could never do you justice, sagie. you’re a work of art,” she murmurs, one of her hands reaching for sage’s waist, fingertips slipping just beneath the fabric of her top so that she can brush her skin, just wanting to feel her, feel the skin she’s mapped with her hands and mouth more times than she can count at this point. “but i’d love to try. over and over again.”

.

Love, love, love— some days she felt so full up of it that it leaked from the corners of her eyes: she could have cried tears of affection, streets could flood with the adoration that she felt for those close to her. Sage mourned the times that she had nowhere to put it, no vessel to pour all of the love in, but she lived for the nights just like this, where the press of Peach’s lips was enough to tether her to the stars. “I want to be shiny, like you. Something that sparkles.” Drinks stripped reasoning from her words, but she knew that her friend would understand— she was in the presence of a girl who could very well be a whole galaxy, she let out a low breath at the familiar touch of skin against skin. “I think I’d let you do anything,” Sage admitted, and the words whispered at the part of Peach’s mouth. “I love you best.”

Zara was being exceptionally good tonight— but perhaps Sage had been sneaky in their plans for the day. A long day of walking at the zoo, paired with a large dinner and a hot bath had the five-year old asleep as soon as she had tucked a dryer-warmed blanket around her. She didn’t often baby-sit, but the little girl had taken a liking to her and the truth was, she would likely do anything that Vin asked her to do. Taking her time downstairs, Sage put away dishes and paused by the mirror to touch up her lipstick and smooth out her hair, the bar owner was likely to be back any minute and it felt incredibly important to her that everything was perfect. A little while later car headlights warmed the living room as his vehicle pulled into the driveway and the brunette tugged her skirt higher up her waist and double checked her mascara before slinking to the sitting room. It had happened like this before and Sage played the role well, the door swung open and she pretended to be startled, “Welcome home, I thought you’d be later.” Her head canted and dark waves clung to one side of her neck, “How was your day?”

dom didn’t take much time to think, and he knew it’d be quite the scenic route to take her through when she needed the inspiration. “let’s go to alley cat,” he suggested, “we can take one of the little trails through the woods to get straight into downtown. nature will inspire, yeah?”

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Sage bounced on the heels of her shoes, leaning into Dom’s side. “I don’t have bug spray but if you promise to ask all the mosquitos to bite you first, let’s go to the woods.” She paused after a moment, making a face. “Actually, I’ve seen one too many survival shows lately. Let’s take a street with a sidewalk, I can’t risk you chopping my leg off with a rusty axe if something goes wrong.”

open to: sage walsh | @sagewalshx​ location: up to you, waste his whole gas tank bc he probably deserves it

Maybe it’s remorse, He thought to himself as he followed the curve of the road back where he had come from after making a wrong turn. This side of town was unknown to him at this hour. Land marks from the few times he’d passed through were skewed under the mild traffic in back streets and the empty lots as everyone was anywhere but home, himself included. 

“Where exactly are we going again?” He asked, curiosity driving his tone rather than frustration despite how many times he’d gotten them lost. “Just so I don’t miss it like the last five turns.”

With anyone else, he would have given up a long time ago, but here he was giving into this without as much as a sarcastic clap back. All he could think of for his own motivation and conduct was that of everyone he’d taken a piece of and sold away, Sage was the only one who didn’t toss a single suspicion his way. All she ever tried to do was keep a peace that Bediah wasn’t quite sure was ever waning, but it seemed like she held it in the palm of her hand for safe keeping always as she did her best to keep everyone pleased. It had to be some form of guilt that made him want to return to favor, even if it was his fault her wrist was bare from its usual glistening halo. 

.

Sage gleamed from the passenger side seat, looking over at Bediah as she held her hand out the window— carding the cool air through her open fingers. She almost didn’t mind the fact that the sparkle she was so used to on her wrist was gone, everything was replaceable when you were an Arnault, and today was bound to be an excursion that would free her of feeling bad about it any longer. “We’re heading out of Ithaca, to one of the farms.”

She leaned back in, squinting at the map on her phone. “I think that this is the right way? North is definitely at the top, but we’re heading east. I have no idea but the street signs look right.” In truth, she probably could have gotten an uber, but the idea of going out by herself for something so sweet made her stomach flip: lonely people seemed to take any reason at all to force company.

“Do you like cats?” It seemed like an out-of-thin-air question,  but doe eyes were too bright for it to be coincidence. “I got a call about kittens the out here the other day. They’re ready to take home, and I think it’s about time Smoothie became a big sister.”

SPRING CONCERT May 21st w/ @sagewalshx​

Damien stood in line at one of the food trucks, his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he turned his head to look over at the side. He could hear the music in the background and as much as he wanted to go up front to support Asher he didn’t want to have one of those awkward run-ins with Peaches again. He brushed his tongue along his lower lip when he noticed Sage a few people down from him in line. “Sage?” He said, stepping one foot out of line and raising his hand to wave her in his direction. “I’m right here, I was looking everywhere for you.” He mused, giving her one of those smirks that let her know to play along with him.

.

She tucked her hands into her pockets, resisting the urge to tap her toe against the asphalt in beat with a tune that was playing not too far away— Sage was quite content to spend the time queued up in her own world when a voice calling her name made her glance up. Doe eyes looked around before she found the source, a bright smile that made her bite the inside of her cheek and eagerly step in Damien’s direction. “My phone died, I was going to text you,” she said— loud enough for those around them to not grumble at the cut in the line. Settling in beside him, she glanced over. “So, what’re we gonna order?”

I just got off the phone with you today, but I didn’t say everything that I wanted to say. As soon as I tried to make the words my tongue turned to ash and my hearted wanted to stop so I couldn’t do it— sometimes words can’t be made out loud, confessions have to be written down and kept secret. We’ve never had a secret between us, I’ve never been scared to tell you anything before.

Yesterday I saw the picture of you and dad again, the one on my mantle. I think you were my age in it and you look just like me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people look happier, or more in love. There are days where I’m terrified of becoming just like you: not that I think that you’re unhappy, or that there is no love in your life, but that I know that I don’t have the same strength that you do. History has a way of repeating itself, I think you said so yourself once, that we are mirrors of one another— the best parts of both you and dad. I’m scared of so many things, sometimes I don’t know how to even face the day with how heavy it feels around me. I’m terrified for loving someone in the same way you did, of carrying it with me, of never being able to love anyone else again. I’m terrified of being alone, even though there is so much love around me I can’t help but feel that it won’t amount to enough.

How can you love someone for so long, and not be with them? I already feel as though what love I have from others is divided: I want a selfish adoration, to be an entire world instead of a star in a universe. I’m scared of disappointing you, of you thinking that I’m silly, that I ask for too much. I’m scared of everything, I’m lonely, and I miss you.

Love,

“don’t think about how you want it to be, just let it come. you’re putting too much thought into it, it should be effortless,” he answered, when she asked how to make it abstract, “and no matter what anyone else thinks, it’ll be beautiful regardless. it’ll still be art, your art.” and with that, dominic put an arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze to her waist. all he could hope for was that something he said would latch to her, and the next time she’d whip out a paint brush or any other utensil she’d come to do her next art piece with.. she would think of him.

when she mentioned a break, he gave a nod and asked, “where do you wanna go? let’s get those creative juices flowing.” ( of course, he couldn’t not give a suggestive raise of his brows and a grin with the implications of his chosen phrase. )

.

Her brow furrowed as he spoke— it wasn’t advice that she hadn’t of heard before, but it was genuine, and Sage understood that Dominic meant to be helpful with his words, and she was grateful of him for it. He believed in her, in her talent and what she had to offer: she leaned in to press her lips to his neck when he tugged her in for a hug. “You’re good to me,” she murmured, and the words were crushed and sweet. “Thank you.” Sage’s next piece would not be any better than the last, but it her heart swelled to think that there were enough people who cared for her like he did.

Sage pulled back now to laugh, bumping his shoulder. “First of all, disgusting. Second of all, let’s get a drink. My treat— whatever you want. Also, I’m terrible at making decisions so you’d better think of something before we spend all day here.”

the words immediately have peach shaking her head, the flush already present on her cheeks staining deeper as she steps closer. “you could never mess it up. you only make things more beautiful,” she tells her as she leans against her side and rests her cheek against her shoulder, letting out a soft giggle as she watches her paint. her chest clenches and warms as she watches the canvas transform, like a new life form born entirely of the sticky sweet love they share. she twirls and refills their glasses as sage meets brush with canvas, their wine glasses a paint-smudged mess already, a work of art in their own right now. at sage’s words, she turns her attention back to the canvas, a bright grin spreading across her lips as she steps closer. “i love it,” she says, awed, eyes twinkling. she wraps an arm around sage’s middle and presses a sweet kiss to her jaw. “i’m keeping it.”

.

She felt like something remarkable under Peach’s glow— in the warmth of her friend’s affection she was something inspired and untouchable, the two of them became capable of anything. Peach and Rowan represented the stretch of long days in hot summers that were filled with possibility, each held up the other in places that they would have otherwise failed: as a trio, they were unstoppable. Sage reached for her glass as Peach studied her work, a muddy mess of colour that looked better as she tipped back the wine and drained the contents, and she was pleased only because she had pleased the other. Acrylic paint transferred from hands to glass to cheek to mouth, Sage shifted in Peach’s twined grip to press her forehead to the other’s. “It’s yours, it couldn’t belong to anyone else.” The tips of her their noses brushed and she laughed, tucking near-white hair behind her best friend’s ear. “You should do one of me, next.”

His smile widens as she corrects herself. June takes a deep breath as he pictures himself. “Easy,” he decides. “Paris,” he says, turning his gaze towards her. “But not alone. I’ve already been to Paris alone and it isn’t what it’s meant to be. I want to be in love in Paris. I hear the stars shine brighter there when you aren’t alone,” he says, his voice falling with their closeness. He pauses as his vision strays to watch the librarian pass. He waits until she passes before he asks his question. “If I asked you to come with me, would you do it?”

.

There were other definitions of going to Paris— but Sage didn’t allow herself to blush, not even when June corrected and said he didn’t want to go by himself. It was sweet, to hear him speak of a place that she knew so well: summers of her youth had been spent in Europe, Paris was etched into her heart in the same way that lines existed in the palm of her hand. And yet, she had never been in love there: not real love, she couldn’t count a few weeks of fervent infatuation when it came to the capital city of love. “We could stay at my place,” Sage whispered back, “If we leave now we can be there to walk the Seine in the morning.” Her smile was wide, of course she would say yes, she would never miss a chance to go back to a place she so easily could consider home.