beastboundd: *lays head on shoulder*
SHE SITS UPON A SOFT brown couch with her comrades at her sides and their worries packed away. it feels uncharacteristically relaxing / soothes the constant trepidation prone to bubbling within her. she feels a growing weight on her shoulder and turns just enough for her nose to brush over tickling strands of gold. her reverie feels so pulling that for a moment, she snaps out of it entirely.
she could think of no more than what her eyes did see : of a simple boy at her side, comfortable enough in her presence to lay rest in it. but she thinks, instead, of this head of soft hair in a helmet ; of this rosy, clear skin lattered in the dirt of foreign land. she thinks of all they’ve been ingrained to do, of those words, even those left unspoken ( especially those left unspoken ), repeating as a mantra to all of them there :
PUNCH HARD / KICK HIGH / DON’T LOOK BACK / BE READY TO DIE.
they’ll tell them to be strong until their very last breath, and each will continue acting as if every last inch of them is ready for the fight.
but you see, colt… her knuckles are weak.behind this cast, her legs are frail.behind her lips, she wants to assure him that,
truth is, they all have flaws.truth is, they all carry burdens. problem is, they’re all vapid liars.
and that includes her.
in a way, she wants to say so much, but she settles for a warming smile, one he will feel from the push of her cheek. the words that fail to leave linger in the air like phantom winds. her head turns to lay over his, the flaxen color contrasting in the slightest with what she could see of the tip of her nose. she sighs, breathing out her worries, and softly asks, ❝ tired ? ❞ along with a small laugh. ❝ maybe you’ll enjoy this little break. i think we all deserve it. ❞
