07-27-2008, 02:50 AM
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Blah, weird post. :\ His words sounded concerned but without remorse (if that were possible), and may have been worth examining closer if she had wanted either one. But she was not--Summer, in short, was unimportant to her, and the easy shake of her head between the walls of her uncertainty gave note to this. No, it was the absurdity of the situation that had gurgled up that laughter, that a rape might evolve in such a way, that even as strange and different as it was from her own experience, it still dusted off the neglected memories, and snapped a few life-puzzle pieces together that she hadn't expected would ever touch. But rape was a common theme in her life, just as it was in the lands Hollow's memory came from, and in some distraught way, Poe admitted that it shouldn't come as a surprise. Not with what he had shown her already, what she knew these lands did to everyone. But to put his deed next to her father\s, grandfather's, the Khalif boy--it unsettled her, tilted her understanding of the hybrid. Questions, some answerable and many not, started fighting their way up from her knotted gut, clustering and catching in her throat before she could spit any one out. They were suffocating in a way that could remember only once in a childhood conversation with her mother and brother, and just the same, the focus shifted before she broke into a cognitive coughing fit. Then her attention shifted, and with it moved the questions, warping and turning in to face herself. His silence and direction warily suggested a reason that she hadn't thought through on a conscious wave before--that she might have waken up by her own will, and the consideration was taken seriously in the silence that hung between the two dream-figures. Perhaps it was true to a degree--it would not be unlike her to take off, always very literally, at the first sign of emotional depth. It was the way life went, she had come to believe. Maybe it had shaped her nature to a degree, but the blatant fact that it was much easier to abandon than be abandoned had come to show its face in these recent times of solitude. She could always feel wanted if she was the one to turn her back. It came about in her mind coldly, and she knew that it would offer no reassurance to Hollow for her to acknowledge it out loud. But the notion of lying to someone who was laying his darkest secrets out for her to see, seemed impossible. So the dark slip of a girl (always just a girl, free in her uncertainty and undisturbed by logic) only walked to the cinnamon man's side and sat there, arm purposefully touching his. "I know," she answered finally. "I don't really know why," she explained with the same vagueness she felt in her own body, unfair an answer as it may be. "But I've missed you."  | ||