11-18-2008, 01:19 AM
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Table by Tammi!
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Pfft. Of course I take ages to reply, and then leave you with a big, blabbidy post! Sorry luff.
The tides had gone out again, and the space that had been alive with the sights and sounds of the gypsy band were all but emptied, leaving behind only a few hints of what was. Poe hadn’t quite let go of it, still staying in her silken tent between the nights that she spent back in the city or on the coastline. She had developed an attachment to the place, stronger than any other piece of land or cluster of company than she had since Chimera. Although this might be seen as a change in her own tide, while she was certainly developing a attachment elsewhere in her life, one that she had never allowed in the past.
Hollow had become a constant in her life, despite the unpredictability of the dreams she shared with him. Under sun or moon, the warmth of his company and care that she basked in on those key nights, lingered under her fur and wrapped her bones. They shared secrets and stories, wisdom and jests, swinging open the door between them, that which had only been cracked and teased at in the days when they had both been able to breathe and bleed. But they no longer touched with the great intention that had proven fallible. All in all, it was an upside down experience for the girl who had always relied on her physical senses to understand another, who pretended that there was no more than a present tense in life. She knew more about Hollow’s history (torrid and blasphemous as it was) than she knew of most old companions combined. It had been his mysterious, shadowy air that had once pulled her towards him, but with the curtain pulled back, she felt secure by his side, openhearted in both his shadows and his lights.
By the glow of her tin lantern, Poe sorted through the material remains of another ghost. A life long gone, with little trinkets left for her exploitation. A silk flower clipped into the rat’s nest bun that she had fashioned her hair into, a necklace of pearls draped around her neck and modeled in a mirror thick with dust beside the streaks her hand left. The dingy livingroom was heavy with age, dust and silence, but these qualities passed weightlessly over her head while she moved to the rhythm of her heart and lungs, until they tumbled to a stop upon the voice of another. It was both something and another, and she would have guessed neither if her name had not been carried on its tones. The inky girl’s body followed her head which followed her ears to turn to the door as it opened, bringing a cool draft and a seemingly distorted sight.
Conri’s missing arm was a unmistakable characteristic, but as with first time she had come across the boy in his adulthood (and when she had met his half-brother), there was no stopping her heart from leaping towards, her mind from flashing back to the resemblance to their father. Although now, unlike those two encounters, her thoughts remained there, riding on the wave of the seemingly impossible that Hollow continued to bring her to. With an expression somewhere between puzzled and breath-bated, Poe took a step towards the mystery half-man. “Hey.... you...” she said slowly and gracelessly below arching brows, testing and waiting with high, wobbly hopes.
The tides had gone out again, and the space that had been alive with the sights and sounds of the gypsy band were all but emptied, leaving behind only a few hints of what was. Poe hadn’t quite let go of it, still staying in her silken tent between the nights that she spent back in the city or on the coastline. She had developed an attachment to the place, stronger than any other piece of land or cluster of company than she had since Chimera. Although this might be seen as a change in her own tide, while she was certainly developing a attachment elsewhere in her life, one that she had never allowed in the past.
Hollow had become a constant in her life, despite the unpredictability of the dreams she shared with him. Under sun or moon, the warmth of his company and care that she basked in on those key nights, lingered under her fur and wrapped her bones. They shared secrets and stories, wisdom and jests, swinging open the door between them, that which had only been cracked and teased at in the days when they had both been able to breathe and bleed. But they no longer touched with the great intention that had proven fallible. All in all, it was an upside down experience for the girl who had always relied on her physical senses to understand another, who pretended that there was no more than a present tense in life. She knew more about Hollow’s history (torrid and blasphemous as it was) than she knew of most old companions combined. It had been his mysterious, shadowy air that had once pulled her towards him, but with the curtain pulled back, she felt secure by his side, openhearted in both his shadows and his lights.
By the glow of her tin lantern, Poe sorted through the material remains of another ghost. A life long gone, with little trinkets left for her exploitation. A silk flower clipped into the rat’s nest bun that she had fashioned her hair into, a necklace of pearls draped around her neck and modeled in a mirror thick with dust beside the streaks her hand left. The dingy livingroom was heavy with age, dust and silence, but these qualities passed weightlessly over her head while she moved to the rhythm of her heart and lungs, until they tumbled to a stop upon the voice of another. It was both something and another, and she would have guessed neither if her name had not been carried on its tones. The inky girl’s body followed her head which followed her ears to turn to the door as it opened, bringing a cool draft and a seemingly distorted sight.
Conri’s missing arm was a unmistakable characteristic, but as with first time she had come across the boy in his adulthood (and when she had met his half-brother), there was no stopping her heart from leaping towards, her mind from flashing back to the resemblance to their father. Although now, unlike those two encounters, her thoughts remained there, riding on the wave of the seemingly impossible that Hollow continued to bring her to. With an expression somewhere between puzzled and breath-bated, Poe took a step towards the mystery half-man. “Hey.... you...” she said slowly and gracelessly below arching brows, testing and waiting with high, wobbly hopes.
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