The impossible is possible tonight
#1
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They all seemed like foreign things. Breathing, the soft sound of a heartbeat in his ears in the quiet of the night, the cold and blustery wind that brought small droplets of rain that seemed to sting at his skin. He could feel the chill in the air, the slippery leaves beneath his feet as he made his way through the forest. Most of all, though, was the pulsing pain that seemed to exist in the area where his son's arm had once been. It was a hollow sort of pain, like it existed right down inside the bone, and it was completely unexpected to him. Such a subtle pain was not about to stop him from what he meant to accomplish, though. He wanted to touch her, smell her, exist with her, even if only for a single night.


He could see, if only faintly, the soft glimmer of light through the windows of the quaint building as he approached. She was inside, he knew, because her scent leaked out from beneath the door, grabbing hold of his nose and refusing to let go, coaxing him to her. At some point during the transition his son's eyes had faded, leaving a pale blue-green color in one and a milked over film in the other, a mixture of the two beings that existed in the single body. It was those eyes that traced the lines of the door as he neared it, that watched with careful attention as one hand moved to open the door. "Poe?" His voice was odd, even to him, a mixture of strong and weak, everything and nothing.

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#2
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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.
Table by Tammi!

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#3
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The warmth was amazing, it had been so long since he had felt it. The small house seemed welcoming, though it shouldn't have been a surprise, everything about Poe had always seemed that way. He waited there in the door, in the quiet of the room and the warmth of the soft light from the lantern, struggling with tattered ears to pick up some kind of sound, some sign of life. What if she slept already? How long did he have like this? Certainly not long, he wouldn't be able to hold it for more than a few hours. He could watch her sleep for a while, it was enough to keep him content, and she would be none the wiser upon waking.


Luckily for him, the quiet sound of movement filled his ears. It seemed far away, even though it wasn't so, and soon enough it came near. She was there in almost an instant, peering at him from around the door, and he couldn't help but to smile at her. It was only then, as he stood staring at her, that he realized he was only still in the door way. Shuffling forward carefully, he used that single arm to push the door closed, to shield the pixie like woman from the cold. "I thought you might be sleeping." He told her quietly, for lack of anything else coherent to say. There were to many things in his head, so many things that he could say that, if he tried, would probably come out in a blurb of confusion.


"I wanted to see you here instead of there." He didn't expect her to understand, though there was a small bit of hope held inside him that she would. Could she mistake him for his son, even if it was his son she was seeing?

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