( with immediacy: ) You have them, whether you want them or not.
( for all it's sympathy, it's a sharply spoken contradiction — like a knife to a soft throat, leaving no wriggle room for an argument. she can't help if it edges toward defensive, either, in her refusal to let this man discard her mercy like it's empty, hollow wind in his ears. unflinching, her dark eyes target his, as though she might sear the sentiment into him. a doubtlessly impossible task — he seems as immovable as any steel, but what good is metal, under the melting point of the sun?
impressing the point, she flicks a childish hand droplet from her finger, harmlessly splashing him in the shoulder. )
I'm not a great conversationalist, obviously. I'm sure you've realized that already.
( tinged with self-deprecation or not, it's the truth of the matter — look at the evidence around them. her nose crinkles, rabbit-like, though she does him the kindness of neither offering an apology or chasing the tail of his aborted confession. as if in invitation to anchor themselves back to — something, in this drifting conversation, she lifts a dripping hand from the water. extends it, as the beads of water pearl down her wrist, waiting to see whether it's accepted. whether he'll listen to the quiet request.
curiously, ) What would you rather be talking about?
no subject
( for all it's sympathy, it's a sharply spoken contradiction — like a knife to a soft throat, leaving no wriggle room for an argument. she can't help if it edges toward defensive, either, in her refusal to let this man discard her mercy like it's empty, hollow wind in his ears. unflinching, her dark eyes target his, as though she might sear the sentiment into him. a doubtlessly impossible task — he seems as immovable as any steel, but what good is metal, under the melting point of the sun?
impressing the point, she flicks a childish hand droplet from her finger, harmlessly splashing him in the shoulder. )
I'm not a great conversationalist, obviously. I'm sure you've realized that already.
( tinged with self-deprecation or not, it's the truth of the matter — look at the evidence around them. her nose crinkles, rabbit-like, though she does him the kindness of neither offering an apology or chasing the tail of his aborted confession. as if in invitation to anchor themselves back to — something, in this drifting conversation, she lifts a dripping hand from the water. extends it, as the beads of water pearl down her wrist, waiting to see whether it's accepted. whether he'll listen to the quiet request.
curiously, ) What would you rather be talking about?