declan quinn
She thought it was almost poetic, how this tempestuous boy demonstrated so much undeniable softness; like a storm who would rather be an early Spring shower, a bolt of lightning who would rather be a gentle firefly. He wanted simple, but he was dealt the hand of someone who would never have the chance to know just that.
Before he was her boy, he was her friend— he was Declan Quinn, who confusedly let her take his hand while being chased by bounty hunters, who agreed to help her ( a stranger ) so long as it meant rescuing his friend, who so badly wanted ( it was there, clearly in the eyes, as it so often is ) not to leave her behind in the vast, cruel Northern continent. He was the boy who seemed to brighten, sincerely, whenever their paths would cross once more, and the one who— with his cigarette held off to one side— wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, comforting her with a steadying, “Don’ cry,” time and time again. He was the one who’d seen through fake smiles, who’d called her out on lies, who followed after her stubbornly, recklessly, when she tried to isolate herself, and who’d gone with her on seemingly futile quests just because he— the first one to consider it— didn’t want her to be alone, and the one who’d shown her, by example, that friendship is a most dedicated thing. When tragedy struck him and he found himself consumed with inexplicable divine rage, he despised it, and again, she could see it in his eyes. To Neva, he was a lesson in self-awareness, in knowing ones most horrid faults, and confronting whatever could be controlled, no matter how difficult, because it matters less what is done to us, but what we do in return, and he never wanted to hurt anyone, not like the consumptive beast within him— Etamin— did.
Declan was mellow, and shy, and learning— constantly learning, just like her. He was incredible. Glancing up at him from the kitchen floor of the quiet Treno house they stayed in, Neva wondered to herself how she hadn’t seen it before their relationship was furthered. She smiled lightly, and met his wandering, dark stare with her luminary one. Already, a blush crept over his cheeks. “Huh?” He prompted, shyly, glance averted to the side for a moment. In front of him, she could hear the light boil of water on the stovetop.
Neva’s smile widened, reaching her eyes, and crinkling at the corners; even just from that, she could see painfully ( cutely! In her opinion. . . ) timid nerves fill his expression. She shook her head and her features softened. “. . . Oh. . . I was just thinking about how much I love you.”
( She’d said it dozens of times before, but still: he, shy and in shock, mumbling to himself while running hand back through his messy hair, almost knocked the pot of water right off of the stove. )
7/??? SIDE CHARACTERS: DECLAN QUINN.
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