07-25-2018, 10:03 PM
[table][tr][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][/tr][/table]
with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair
Hazel let Alex drag her mind away from Bastille, allowing the boy’s young voice smooth over the unsteady melody in her head. He was so small, so unsure of himself — such a child. He was just a boy, innocent and curious and shy. Hazel wanted to point out every sharp edge and blunt trauma life had to offer before it could get to him, to just...protect that delicate light in his eyes.
She could feel him watching her face closely, and realized via the heat in her cheeks that she still looked on the verge of tears. Hazel hastily wiped a thumb over the tender skin under her eyes, a flustered huff falling past her lips at his compliment. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alex.” She hummed, taking note of his preference to name. “I hope you like it here — it’s a beautiful place to live.” She smiled, smoothing a thumb over the soft wood of the ukulele’s neck. It was warm from her grip.
Again, Hazel wondered if Alex came to the Ascendants on his own. She wondered if he’d met Suite and Margy, knowing that they’d love him. He was young and inquisitive and hesitant, the type of child her friends seemed to latch onto and not let go until they were properly parented. Part of Hazel hoped they didn’t scare him off, actually.
Her thumb stalled over the instrument at his question, dread dropping like a lead weight in her stomach. Was she going to be okay? What a funny question. Her whole life was a constant stream of get up, you’re fine. You’re okay, but it was never a question.
“Yeah, Alex. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me, alright?” She smiled thinly. It was a half assed lie; a desperate wish and hope. She didn’t want him getting caught up between the drama with her and Bastille, anyway. It would be fruitless anyway. “It’s nothing big. Just...it’s nothing.” Deus, she needed to stop talking before she gave something away. The girl turned her attention back to her instrument, aimlessly rubbing her thumb across the chords.
When Suite joined them, Hazel startled — the earth splintering just a bit further — and looked up, eyes tracking her friend and then another figure as they follow. Hazel felt her skin prickle uncomfortably at the growing number of people, but things move too quickly for her to linger on it. Golden optics that glow faintly underneath the shadow of her bangs swept up and down Versaille’s figure, trying to place the sense of deja vu in the other girl’s aura. It was curious and shy, but different than Alex’s. Unsettled, maybe. Anxious. Hazel could relate, on some level.
Deciding not to make the newcomer more anxious than she already was, Hazel smiles brightly, her sincerity encouraged by Suite’s presence. “Hello,” She chirps, sitting a little straighter and folding her legs, “I don’t think we’ve met, either, which is a shame. I’m Hazel. Vera, right?” She gave her a little nod in the stead of a handshake, curls bouncing.
Then she switched her attention to Suite, teeth peeking through her grin as she noted the nickname for Alex. Ah, so they had met before. Good! “Ave, Suite.” She greeted, once again blushing at her compliment. “That’s very lenient of you, but I highly doubt I’ll ever live up to your skill. A girl can dream, though.” Or not. A nice dream would be welcomed.
“Thank you.” Hazel mumbled, glancing down at the designs on her ukulele. She hadn’t considered it art, and didn’t want to — all of her art supplies had been in shambles for over a month, and she wanted to keep it that way. The doodles on her instrument were either a fluke of habit, or something she’d done without noticing. A mode of comfort, maybe. Probably.
A dusty rose glowed in her peripheral, and Hazel turned, finding Margaery’s hourglass form sashaying towards them. Her brows knit at the woman’s coughing, her own nerve endings picking up on the heavy scent of verbena that clung to Margy’s clothes as well as the tremor in her aura. “Margy, you should let Peri check out that cough — it doesn’t sound too good.”
She sputtered as Margy gave her compliments as well, and Hazel wanted to shrink into the dust. There was so much attention on her — too much attention. She squirmed, unaware of the shudder in the ground beneath her. “Thank you,” She nearly mumbled. “That smoke from the fire did a number on my throat...I wish it wasn’t so scratchy.” She admitted, trying to divert some of her nerves.
At the mention of a duet, Hazel tightened her grip on the instrument, thumbs pressing down a little harder against the chords, forcing the notes out. Play? And sing? In front of everyone? As in...like a concert? Uh, no. No, no no. She loved Margaery, but that was...no. “Oh,” Her voice cracked. “That’s...maybe when I’m better at playing?” She suggested sheepishly.
She could feel him watching her face closely, and realized via the heat in her cheeks that she still looked on the verge of tears. Hazel hastily wiped a thumb over the tender skin under her eyes, a flustered huff falling past her lips at his compliment. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alex.” She hummed, taking note of his preference to name. “I hope you like it here — it’s a beautiful place to live.” She smiled, smoothing a thumb over the soft wood of the ukulele’s neck. It was warm from her grip.
Again, Hazel wondered if Alex came to the Ascendants on his own. She wondered if he’d met Suite and Margy, knowing that they’d love him. He was young and inquisitive and hesitant, the type of child her friends seemed to latch onto and not let go until they were properly parented. Part of Hazel hoped they didn’t scare him off, actually.
Her thumb stalled over the instrument at his question, dread dropping like a lead weight in her stomach. Was she going to be okay? What a funny question. Her whole life was a constant stream of get up, you’re fine. You’re okay, but it was never a question.
“Yeah, Alex. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me, alright?” She smiled thinly. It was a half assed lie; a desperate wish and hope. She didn’t want him getting caught up between the drama with her and Bastille, anyway. It would be fruitless anyway. “It’s nothing big. Just...it’s nothing.” Deus, she needed to stop talking before she gave something away. The girl turned her attention back to her instrument, aimlessly rubbing her thumb across the chords.
When Suite joined them, Hazel startled — the earth splintering just a bit further — and looked up, eyes tracking her friend and then another figure as they follow. Hazel felt her skin prickle uncomfortably at the growing number of people, but things move too quickly for her to linger on it. Golden optics that glow faintly underneath the shadow of her bangs swept up and down Versaille’s figure, trying to place the sense of deja vu in the other girl’s aura. It was curious and shy, but different than Alex’s. Unsettled, maybe. Anxious. Hazel could relate, on some level.
Deciding not to make the newcomer more anxious than she already was, Hazel smiles brightly, her sincerity encouraged by Suite’s presence. “Hello,” She chirps, sitting a little straighter and folding her legs, “I don’t think we’ve met, either, which is a shame. I’m Hazel. Vera, right?” She gave her a little nod in the stead of a handshake, curls bouncing.
Then she switched her attention to Suite, teeth peeking through her grin as she noted the nickname for Alex. Ah, so they had met before. Good! “Ave, Suite.” She greeted, once again blushing at her compliment. “That’s very lenient of you, but I highly doubt I’ll ever live up to your skill. A girl can dream, though.” Or not. A nice dream would be welcomed.
“Thank you.” Hazel mumbled, glancing down at the designs on her ukulele. She hadn’t considered it art, and didn’t want to — all of her art supplies had been in shambles for over a month, and she wanted to keep it that way. The doodles on her instrument were either a fluke of habit, or something she’d done without noticing. A mode of comfort, maybe. Probably.
A dusty rose glowed in her peripheral, and Hazel turned, finding Margaery’s hourglass form sashaying towards them. Her brows knit at the woman’s coughing, her own nerve endings picking up on the heavy scent of verbena that clung to Margy’s clothes as well as the tremor in her aura. “Margy, you should let Peri check out that cough — it doesn’t sound too good.”
She sputtered as Margy gave her compliments as well, and Hazel wanted to shrink into the dust. There was so much attention on her — too much attention. She squirmed, unaware of the shudder in the ground beneath her. “Thank you,” She nearly mumbled. “That smoke from the fire did a number on my throat...I wish it wasn’t so scratchy.” She admitted, trying to divert some of her nerves.
At the mention of a duet, Hazel tightened her grip on the instrument, thumbs pressing down a little harder against the chords, forcing the notes out. Play? And sing? In front of everyone? As in...like a concert? Uh, no. No, no no. She loved Margaery, but that was...no. “Oh,” Her voice cracked. “That’s...maybe when I’m better at playing?” She suggested sheepishly.
© MADI
[align=center]
WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better