#truuemind

“I waited in the cold, but the door wouldn't open 'til I heard your voice in a dream.”

          ❛ hey !!! asshole !! do you have a soul? because I need to hide from these OTHER assholes, and if you have a heart at all you’ll distract them for me. or find me somewhere to go. please. ❜

YOU USED TO CALL ME ON MY CELLPHONE -accepting

“Well, he-my...friend, he got me into this mess. I don’t know. SO what about you? Why are you hiding out in the jungle huh?”

          a small chatter ticked along her teeth as the winter wind seemingly rushed across the length of the pond. fingers clinging desperately under his shoulder. burrowing her cheek into the arm of his coat.  the frigid end of the draft gently nipping at her nose. eyes wandering up to catch the very end of his smile - like a bright spot of warmth peaking out through the still cold. one that just couldn’t help but spark the beginning of her own. pulling all along her lips, seemingly reaching the corners of her eyes. nose wrinkling up ever so slightly in that sudden elation. gently tracing fingers down to take his in hers.  sure, maybe the lack of mittens wasn’t exactly the best idea ( but.. she couldn’t bear the thought of inflexibility... loosing the ability to communicate with him... BE with him.  maybe it was naive, but she’d rather the risk of frostbite before that. )   -  but, just there for a moment, she couldn’t help but feel his fingertips could warm her entire body. flushing her cheeks in a soft pink, hobbling a bit unsteadily at his side through the banks; skates in hand. 

          wading through waves of white, until they settled down a moment to pull boots off and well, pull skates on. it was exciting !! she’d never even gotten close to ice skating. mama used to always say she’d fall right through - a slight shiver running down her back. ticking along that silent worry that underscored. what if she couldn’t do it ??  a small frown creasing along her features as hesitant fingers fumbled with the laces. snow threatening to seep out through her jacket into her trousers. eyes crossing the ice with an anxiety picking at her fingers.  

                      “ MELCHIOR. ” originally, ilse wasn’t going to come, but eventually, the pity she felt for him won over her common sense. it wasn’t as if she was a stranger to the graveyard, or like she had some sort of fear of ghosts, no, on the contrary, ilse visited it often. who else was going to put flowers on the graves? nobody else seemed to care. they were all too caught up in their own funny ways of grieving. ilse, on the other hand, was too terrified to stay away. there were times that only the graveyard would do, when she couldn’t get the idea of her own mortality off her mind. but, when she came to the graveyard, she was reminded that MORITZ and WENDLA were both already dead & rotting. they all were. they all would be. how depressing. if it was depressing for her, to come here tonight, ilse simply couldn’t even attempt to fathom how AWFUL it must be for melchior. he didn’t even know wendla was . . . gone. the grass was cold underneath her feet, she could feel herself catching a cold. nonetheless, she approached him, where he crouched over the cemetery’s newest grave.