06-01-2018, 10:40 PM
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[sup]c) miithers[/sup]
★ WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD
Hazel immediately snapped her attention upwards at the flood of heat that filled the air, her nerves pinching with the old feeling of molten anger. She sucked in a breath, ribs poking uncomfortably at her skin, as she tried to steel herself against the new burn of the familiar yet foreign emotion. She knew it was Bastille before she even found his eyes; she could smell the smoke and pine scent that accompanied the acrid taste of fury. It startled her, to say in the least, and she was worried that it was directed at her for whatever reason he had been avoiding her for. That was to say, whatever she had said to Margy that had him so turned around.
Once her golden gaze caught on his, Hazel tilted her head just the slightest bit, focusing on the curious colors of his irises. She knew them very well to be glacier blue, and had never known him to have the ability to change their color. It was alarming, because the transition was blatant. Ice to forest, sky to pine. Blue to green. Right to wrong.
It reminded Hazel of their interaction earlier: the sudden bitterness and flash of warm tropics against the backdrop of the usual Alaskan tundra she had grown so familiar with. The sudden and complete swing from reserved mourning to the flare of unspoken jealousy. The almost...uncharacteristic feel to it all, despite his history of anger.
Guarded curiosity flickered in her pools of vivid gold. Then he was speaking, and she was tearing her gaze away to focus on the string in front of her once more like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Her ears twitched with recognition, skin burning in an irrational flush at his words. The nod she gave him was a bit unfocused as she split her mind two ways: one part wondering what in the devil was going on with Bastille himself, and the other wondering why he sounded so angry. He seemed so furious over everything, like the fury was just shifting and being aimed rather than resurfacing over individual things. Hazel just couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, or why.
Regardless, her moronic sense of curiosity had her disregarding the threat he posed to her, even in the face of her past and what she had seen him do. This was the one thing she had ever known to manually override everything else: the want to get closer to who he was, to find out what he was all about and just help him.
“Thank you,” She murmured quietly, voice still soft with the knowledge of Margaery being so close. She didn’t know what to do for a moment before she glanced down to the bracelet on her foreleg and its intricate patterns; the one she had tried the hardest on. Slowly, she untied it, and glanced back up to Bastille, the gold in her optics hesitant.
“Et factum est...ita,” She said, momentarily forgetting that Margaery spoke it Latin, and it was no longer just for her and Bastille. “Uh, you don’t have to wear it, but I thought…” Heck, was she even thinking at that point? She was either overthinking or not thinking at all. She didn’t know what had caused this. “I don’t know what I thought. I think I started making it and the colors reminded me of you, or something like that.” Deus, that sounded ridiculous. Hazel grimaced at herself. “Actually, ignore that, if you please. That sounded stupidly cheesy.” Wow, she sucked.
Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Hazel’s attention swung to Luna briefly, mentally shrugging. “Everybody’s bound to have a little child in them.” She murmured. “And I don’t mind at all - I can start on yours once I’ve finished Suite’s.”
(“I made it...for you.”)
Once her golden gaze caught on his, Hazel tilted her head just the slightest bit, focusing on the curious colors of his irises. She knew them very well to be glacier blue, and had never known him to have the ability to change their color. It was alarming, because the transition was blatant. Ice to forest, sky to pine. Blue to green. Right to wrong.
It reminded Hazel of their interaction earlier: the sudden bitterness and flash of warm tropics against the backdrop of the usual Alaskan tundra she had grown so familiar with. The sudden and complete swing from reserved mourning to the flare of unspoken jealousy. The almost...uncharacteristic feel to it all, despite his history of anger.
Guarded curiosity flickered in her pools of vivid gold. Then he was speaking, and she was tearing her gaze away to focus on the string in front of her once more like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Her ears twitched with recognition, skin burning in an irrational flush at his words. The nod she gave him was a bit unfocused as she split her mind two ways: one part wondering what in the devil was going on with Bastille himself, and the other wondering why he sounded so angry. He seemed so furious over everything, like the fury was just shifting and being aimed rather than resurfacing over individual things. Hazel just couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, or why.
Regardless, her moronic sense of curiosity had her disregarding the threat he posed to her, even in the face of her past and what she had seen him do. This was the one thing she had ever known to manually override everything else: the want to get closer to who he was, to find out what he was all about and just help him.
“Thank you,” She murmured quietly, voice still soft with the knowledge of Margaery being so close. She didn’t know what to do for a moment before she glanced down to the bracelet on her foreleg and its intricate patterns; the one she had tried the hardest on. Slowly, she untied it, and glanced back up to Bastille, the gold in her optics hesitant.
“Et factum est...ita,” She said, momentarily forgetting that Margaery spoke it Latin, and it was no longer just for her and Bastille. “Uh, you don’t have to wear it, but I thought…” Heck, was she even thinking at that point? She was either overthinking or not thinking at all. She didn’t know what had caused this. “I don’t know what I thought. I think I started making it and the colors reminded me of you, or something like that.” Deus, that sounded ridiculous. Hazel grimaced at herself. “Actually, ignore that, if you please. That sounded stupidly cheesy.” Wow, she sucked.
Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Hazel’s attention swung to Luna briefly, mentally shrugging. “Everybody’s bound to have a little child in them.” She murmured. “And I don’t mind at all - I can start on yours once I’ve finished Suite’s.”
(“I made it...for you.”)
★ — hazel — "speech" — seven months — the ascendants — tags — ★
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better