#ic: thread.

[ingolds-archived]

     his world used to be so narrow - the stone walls of rome, his mother’s hand on the nape of his neck, blood and sweat dripping into his eyes beneath a harsh sun. he’d been superhuman from the start, privy to a world past what the soldiers beside him saw, but his universe had still been as small as a grain of sand, contained and endless in a vast hourglass. it had only been under the threat of death that he’d had his eyes opened to what lay beyond his simple life, what wonders the world held in hidden corners and not yet explored terrain. her, for example - her scent is ozone and ink spilled upon a page, like a gas lamp flickering in a dark library. he leans his elbows on the railing of the pier that faces out to the sea, doesn’t look at them as he speaks.

     “ i get the sense you’ve been around longer than i have. that’s rare, you know. ” their brows lift, curious, a slow tip of their head accompanying the expression. “ what’s the earliest thing you remember? ”

@the27percent​

[ingolds-archived]

     she conjures up images of colorful brush strokes, paint spattered messily on canvas and songbirds chirping from beyond billowing linen curtains. the exhibition room is small and claustrophobic, choppy wallpaper and large picture frames pressing on his tall frame from all sides - but her person is bursting and fresh, candy fizzing in the back of his throat. she’s too large to be in such a tiny space, and the fine mist that settles over him feels almost like comfort, as if her mere presence breathes life back into the room. the ceilings don’t feel so low, and he’s able to exhale between the throngs of schoolkids that rush by to see the fossils at the other end of the museum.

     he finally speaks up when she moves from one painting to the next, says offhandedly, “ you must spend a lot of time here. ” dark eyes flick from ornate framing to where he can just see her in his periphery, quietly assessing. “ or you’re already familiar with albrecht dürer’s works. ”

@fatewoven​

[ingolds-archived]

     bass thumps in his ears, rattling his bones, and not for the first time, theo wonders what he’s doing here - if they shouldn’t call it a night already and try to get some rest. the approaching full moon is making him edgy, like his skin is just a little too tight, and there are people constantly knocking into him despite his height, lighting bolts of DRUNK and WANT skittering over his skin. clubs aren’t ever his scene, full of too many people and the emotions they sweat out like it’s going out of fashion, but he’d decided to push himself into another comfort zone for once. sue him. it’s a relief when they’re let into the VIP area - high payers only, thank you very much - and sinks into one of the empty couches, darkness and slightly less noise blessing them. he scrubs a hand down his face, gaze cutting to the only other person in this section they don't seem thrilled, either.

     “ hey - think i could bum one? ” they ask, gesturing at the flame-orange tip bobbing in the low lighting. they look just as edgy as him, and he quirks an uneven grin, flashing teeth. it doesn’t hurt to be friendly. “ next drink’s on me. ”

@grayflown​

[ingolds-archived]

     snow drifts in fat flakes around him, cold where they sizzle on his skin, and he wraps his scarf tighter around himself, seeks its comfort despite not being as sensitive to the low temperature. most people are bustling to and fro, heads ducked into their coat collars and their hands buried in their pockets, but not her - she drifts slowly through the storm, hands at her sides, and he has to admit he’s curious. theo tries, within reason, to blend in with people, to not make himself stick out as anything other than one of them. not her, though; she is unconcerned with looking different, ethereal as she floats down the busy sidewalk. instead of stepping out in front of her, or trying to stop her, he moves alongside her, matches her pace easily. he doesn’t look at her, puffs a breath and watches it condense into a fine mist.

     “ you’re gonna’ catch a cold if you stay out here much longer, ” he advises, gestures down the street with his head. “ want to grab a coffee? i could use one after traipsing through this blizzard. ”

@wintergod