10-05-2008, 01:42 PM
[html]
[/html]
Urma waited restlessly for Pilot to open the gift, her heart pounding hard against her ribcage, waiting for a reaction. His soft voice, the polite, warm statement, made the white female smile slowly. She looked at him, her expression a mixture of her own thank you-s, her own hopes. "I'd like to hear you play it once, if you wouldn't mind. At some point, maybe," she said meekly, her thoughts drifting into a future where she could lay her head on his lap and listen to the soft sounds of the violin as Pilot played it for her. But those thoughts were probably going to remain just that. How could she possibly tell him how much he had become to her in such a short time, how much the revelation of this had taken her aback.
She edged a bit closer to him, leaving only the violin in its case standing between them. Her eyes glowed a rusted shade of amber in the sun that barely came through the dense tree leaves. A multitude of feelings stirred inside her. She watched him, and her eyes betrayed a mixture of fondness and dedication. Looking at Pilot was to Urma like feeling. She only had to look at him to feel an immeasurable amount of happiness invade her senses. She felt silly, looking at him, so silent, as if she wanted to say something through gestures that she could not put into words, which was probably the case anyway. Only she felt compelled to say something. All the running away from Pilot, all the trivial conversations hiding just a bigger fear of the truth meaning her rejection... It was all part of some kind of pretense that Urma had grown weary of. She enjoyed his company, she felt something completely and utterly beautiful for him, and the silence of it threatened to tear her apart.
Maybe the moment wasn't right, but then when are moments right to do something? The fluke, the risk, the spontaneous decision to act in a certain way is what, later on, makes a moment the "right" one. Urma knew this, somewhere in her heart, as she stirred a bit and placed a paw over Pilot's slowly and gently. "I missed you," she said, in barely more than a whisper.
She edged a bit closer to him, leaving only the violin in its case standing between them. Her eyes glowed a rusted shade of amber in the sun that barely came through the dense tree leaves. A multitude of feelings stirred inside her. She watched him, and her eyes betrayed a mixture of fondness and dedication. Looking at Pilot was to Urma like feeling. She only had to look at him to feel an immeasurable amount of happiness invade her senses. She felt silly, looking at him, so silent, as if she wanted to say something through gestures that she could not put into words, which was probably the case anyway. Only she felt compelled to say something. All the running away from Pilot, all the trivial conversations hiding just a bigger fear of the truth meaning her rejection... It was all part of some kind of pretense that Urma had grown weary of. She enjoyed his company, she felt something completely and utterly beautiful for him, and the silence of it threatened to tear her apart.
Maybe the moment wasn't right, but then when are moments right to do something? The fluke, the risk, the spontaneous decision to act in a certain way is what, later on, makes a moment the "right" one. Urma knew this, somewhere in her heart, as she stirred a bit and placed a paw over Pilot's slowly and gently. "I missed you," she said, in barely more than a whisper.
[/html]