#lostashore

dark green hues only but briefly locked gaze with her before she averted her attention elsewhere. slumping her shoulders, she slightly wriggled her nose and ran her fingers through her hair. a smirk itched to crawl its way onto her face and showcase itself, but she fought that urge. this was a serious moment. the other was serious, and no way was poppy going to upset her at this very moment.

if she wasn’t upset already.

“…what?”

arms crossed, she leaned against the wall beside her, shaking the excess strands of hair from her vision. the female didn’t think it was all that big of a problem. whatever the problem was. she’d simply stepped out for a while. felt she needed some fresh air. felt she needed a break. maybe she’d been out for too long, and maybe she’d had a tad bit too much to drink but so what? she was still here. alive and breathing and in good shape. well somewhat.

though she began to question herself. she began questioning her actions and with this came guilt, followed by regret. all swirling and bubbling at the pit of her stomach. the other was merely concerned for her safety and here she was, detesting any kind of advice, swearing up and down that she didn’t have a problem and that she didn’t need help but surely that was a lie. cause she needed. she needed it badly.

but of course she wasn’t going to admit it. at least not now.

if he could, he would stop lying to her. but time drains him of reason, 24 hours stapled to fractured bones and 7 days of the week hung underneath dark eyes. there is nothing he could do, nothing he could say. secrets simmer beneath his tongue, and he drinks it down with another sip from his drink. today the cafe smells of coffee and buttered rolls, reminds him of youth. teenage youth. he licks his teeth with his tongue, tries to recall a time where he had told her the truth. he recalls very few, feels no guilt. no shame. he picks up his glass, stares at the watery ring left behind, and begins to wonder if he would ever tell her anything. 

“sure.” a mistake. he knows he doesn’t keep promises. “i’ll be safe. i’m good at being safe. not going to school doesn’t really mean anything.” his voice is clipped, pressed into the palm of his hand. their eyes meet, and he looks at her like he would a stranger. fear is not the perpetrator. though perhaps it is worry. worry that she would become too involved in his life. if anything, he would prefer it if she kept herself distanced. know him, but not about him. he’ll easily tell her fragments of his life, if she asks. five years old with an old bucket filled with crabs. eleven years old with purple lipstick stuck to his eyelids. innocence is a lot easier to talk about. that’s how he’ll keep the conversation going. 

grinding his teeth against his nails, he stares at the space between her and the man behind her. “how about we do that promise thing?” he holds out his left hand, wiggling his fingers. “with the thumbs kissing and everything.”

「▼」Send a symbol to hear my muse talk about their…

☢ Personality Flaw(s)

Flaws. He knew he was full of them; not the quirky kind of flaws that some people exploit, some for attention. These flaws he kept hidden to himself especially the ones that revealed too much of himself.

“Do you want a list? I’ll make it short; fickle and a smoker. There are probably more. Why don’t you tell me?”

✯ Perfect day

Dazed and glassy eyed she stares at her refracted features with apathy on a shallow puddle. She supposes she’s been worse; Bruised cheeks and knotted hair are as common as her bare legs at this point. A mildly impressed voice breaks her reverie, and lithe fingers get to work on her bleached, dry strands. Only now does she believe the drastic change in hairstyle as a birthday gift to herself was an inconvenient mistake.

An echo of  disgrace pangs at her chest. It would have been preferable that no one approach her after the scene. She’d always been more comfortable licking her wounds in solitude to preserve what little sliver of dignity she had left. Instead she abandons her hair to dab at the trio of parallel scratches on her cheeks that had began to well and drip to her shirt. A light hiss left bared teeth at the sting, but the more she prodded the more tolerable it became.

In that moment she was somewhat proud that she had not cried yet. The woman was not worth her tears.

Kris looked over the edge of the rocky cliff they were standing on, her eyes settling on the calm water below them. She reached out to take the girl’s hand as she turned to look at her with a comforting smile “Come on, it is not that bad! We will jump together! I have done it before, you’ll love it!”