Clearsight
"I love you," I try.
We're eating dinner. We've been absorbed in our work all day. We've probably talked to each other, but I don't really remember any of it. In other words, nothing significant.
Darkstalker doesn't respond. He never does, these days. It drives me crazy.
***
"Tell me one story."
"What do you mean?" Darkstalker frowns.
I quickly roll up my scroll and push it away from my sleeping mat. "From your childhood. doesn't have to be about your dad. Just something."
Darkstalker closes his eyes.
"Something good," I add. "Or sad. I don't care."
He thinks for so long, I sort of assume he's ignoring me again. "When I was little, Whiteout and I used to do paintings together and we'd give them to Mother, and she would pin them up in her bedroom. Even the terrible ones. And one time, we went out together looking for flowers, and we found these daisies growing near the river, and Whiteout taught me how to make a crown out of them, and then we gave it to Mother, and she wore it until it started wilting." He smiles a little.
"How are you feeling?"
"Furious."
"On a scale of one to ten?"
"9.9."
"Really?"
"Something like that."
"That sounds awful."
Darkstalker closes his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
I get the sense that neither of us really sleep that night.
I don't say anything about it.
YOU ARE READING
Timeline: a Wings of Fire fanfiction (COMPLETED)
FanfictionDarkstalker's face flashed through her mind: the face of a dragon she had yet to meet, but whose face came with a torrent of visions--joy and love and pain and horror, so mixed-up she couldn't untangle it, couldn't even breathe when she thought abou...
