⸻ [ . . . ] crafting spell for @nepnthc, who sent: i'm just kidding! oh , i'm so sorry , your face...
The sudden change in atmosphere was palpable within an instant, the heated summer air turning ice cold, grazing their skins with a shiver. Only on rare occasions would one be able to witness the drop of the blonde’s gaze. Something anyone could be sure of to feel. Zeev wasn’t picky about who deserved his attention as long as he received the same amount in return. Some though, he discovered, felt more sincere than others.
In this particular case Enid had accidentally nudged a topic Zeev hadn’t expected. Usually he wasn’t easily surprised, heck, he had a poker face some gambling addicts would die for. Somehow the brunette had managed to hit a spot he wasn’t aware he had left open for her to invade. He felt too comfortable.
Zeev rarely had bad days, especially when the sun was shining. There wasn’t much that could drown his smiles and ease. This particular day though was tainted with a memory that felt more like a hazy dream. He couldn’t exactly recall the circumstances, but he was painfully aware of the outcome. It was exactly one year ago since his little sister had died. The witcher couldn’t blame her for asking, just like himself, she wasn’t used to him sitting all by himself, quiet and withdrawn. His usual outgoing behavior was nothing but a trait of the past. He felt switched out with a version of himself he had thought to have abandoned.
Asking him “did someone die or why are you so dejected?” probably wasn’t very clever. He had winced immediately, dropping his head so fast he almost snapped his neck.
“I’m just kidding!” she quickly claimed, pure guilt tainting her drawl. “Oh… I’m so sorry.” She fell down next to him, only noticeable by the way the greenery gave in and bent to accommodate her presence.
Mindlessly he pulled dead weeds out of the dry ground, letting them sprinkle down from his scarred palm. Everything about his body spoke of defeat. Hunched back and low hanging head, the corners of his lips far from remembering how to smile. The shine in his eyes dimmed like midnight hues.
“Your face…” she mumbled, eying him attentively. Of course she did. Anyone else would have gone away. Anyone else wouldn’t have been around long enough to ever witness that he was just as much human as anyone else. That his grief was just as real, even if he tried to cover it with laughs and sunshine. “I’ve never seen you this sad…” It wasn’t like she was talking to him per se, her voice nothing more than in thought babbling. She hesitated in touching him and he couldn’t blame her.
She didn’t say it, but her face was as clear as the sky when he dared to look up at her. “Not today” he mumbled. “Perhaps I’ll tell you, but not today…”
He felt like an antithesis pressed into a human frame. He wanted her touch, he wanted her presence, he wanted comfort and he needed her words — still he yearned to be left alone, to get lost in the darkening thoughts, to remember what is out of reach, to punish himself for an unknown crime, he wasn’t ready to share his feelings. Supposedly, he never would be.
