05-13-2009, 04:30 PM
He seemed to return to earth, if only for a moment. There was a flash of something that lurked behind his single electric eye. Something was there within the bright green depths, waiting to consume this man. Or whatever he had left of him. She sensed that he was fighting something. Or perhaps he wasn't fighting anything at all. She wondered what he would be trying to make his mind up about, and her eyes swept out over the ocean again.
She sensed the dark, molten core of pain in him. But was it all-consuming? What could take him, empty him so completely? Something had utterly devastated him, hard ravaged the heart he held entombed within his chest. What could have shaken him? She found his gaze and held it, taken aback by the sadness in his face. She had seen sides of him she hadn't expected, but that one single look of misery was so defenseless, yet guarded at the same time she had no idea what to make of it.
Jefferson was a closed individual. With him, she always had to try to read between the lines, find hidden chinks in his armor to get through to his inner self. She felt as sharp pang as she recalled the brightness in his face the last time she had seen him, baiting her to read all those weeks ago at the ranch. She thought he had been closed off then, but how wrong she'd been. Here, he had presented her with yet another conundrum.
She wanted to offer her comfort, but she felt that he wouldn't accept it. She felt if she were to offer the slightest iota of warmth that he would turn away from her completely, if he hadn't already. And so she had to forge a way to him on neutral, rocky ground. She waded into the shallow water in front of him, curling her body so that she stood still a bit to the side, but now they were face-to-face with about a foot between them. "Why don't we talk instead?" It was a gentle demand, an offering, perhaps even maybe a plea. Her tone held bits of everything. She didn't want to force him, but she refused to leave him this way. This time, no matter what face he showed her, Geneva wouldn't run.
She sensed the dark, molten core of pain in him. But was it all-consuming? What could take him, empty him so completely? Something had utterly devastated him, hard ravaged the heart he held entombed within his chest. What could have shaken him? She found his gaze and held it, taken aback by the sadness in his face. She had seen sides of him she hadn't expected, but that one single look of misery was so defenseless, yet guarded at the same time she had no idea what to make of it.
Jefferson was a closed individual. With him, she always had to try to read between the lines, find hidden chinks in his armor to get through to his inner self. She felt as sharp pang as she recalled the brightness in his face the last time she had seen him, baiting her to read all those weeks ago at the ranch. She thought he had been closed off then, but how wrong she'd been. Here, he had presented her with yet another conundrum.
She wanted to offer her comfort, but she felt that he wouldn't accept it. She felt if she were to offer the slightest iota of warmth that he would turn away from her completely, if he hadn't already. And so she had to forge a way to him on neutral, rocky ground. She waded into the shallow water in front of him, curling her body so that she stood still a bit to the side, but now they were face-to-face with about a foot between them. "Why don't we talk instead?" It was a gentle demand, an offering, perhaps even maybe a plea. Her tone held bits of everything. She didn't want to force him, but she refused to leave him this way. This time, no matter what face he showed her, Geneva wouldn't run.