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nuada-airgetlam started following you
"I'm sorry, we're closed." It was her own fault for not locking the door on time, but the sign should have been enough to send away any wayward customers. She didn't look up as she was going through her inventory.
"We'll be open again tomorrow at eight, if you want to come back."
nuada-airgetlam replied to your post:One thing I really hate on tumblr is you can never...
Are you alright hun? Also, fucking young Sally just appeared on eurovision, I near died!!
(makes a face) Yeah I guess so. I just have a problem dealing with people not being up front with me. Like....if you hate my guts, that's grand. Just let me know and I'll leave you alone, you know? But that's a problem of tumblr....you never know if someone is deliberately being an asshole and keeping you in the dark about what they think of you....or if tumblr is the asshole. (shrugs) Though I don't see how someone can miss three different ways of trying to get in contact with them (and for the most part you singing their praises) maybe tumblr really is just that stupid.
NO WAY! What the hell was she doing on there!
Finally I'm on top of my drafts. Hope I'm doing a decent job.
nuada-airgetlam Well, semi-hiatus is coming as of Monday soooo... this is temporary success. And I'm always self-critical even if this isn't required. I'm the most disorganized and inconsistent person to be known. EVER *blushing intensifies*
Eisoptrophobia- fear of seeing oneself in the mirror. Nuada/Sally.
It is said that the Heirs of Bethmoora are mirror images of one another. Linked the length and breadth of numerous lifetimes by a similarity that encompasses all sins. Whether goodness and virtue or cruelty and caprice; they are meant to echo one to the other, like identical ripples created on opposite ends of a listless loch…
…even though they may but stir and never disrupt the others path…but to pass through them, as wind through a broken pane of glass, leaving only the hollow sound of the intangible transition in its wake.
But the reflection is only ever like those ripples, barely breathing across the surface; no submersion satisfied.
When Sally fastens her gaze upon the glassy length of the dark pool, unvisited by most in the Hall, she longs to see the shadow of another in herself. A woman, strong and gentle. Courageous and caring. Selfless…
…and severed from her…like twisted and knotted rope, shorn by a shaving shear…
When Sally reaches out, slim fingers sinking beneath the black viscous veil of that well, in the vain hope to catch the shade of her, that unreachable woman…she dissipates, like so many fragments of dust…at the bottom of the lake bed with but one touch from her hand.
When the surface stills once more, he has taken up residence behind her; observing her coolly within the confines of the constructed fountain. It is a gaze she returns as dispassionately as he doles out, a danger in itself.
There is no resemblance. There could be no two creatures on this Earth less liken to the other.
But she sees herself in his eyes.
The sight, like sunken stones to water, slip uncertainty into her belly…spreading ripples of fear throughout her frame.
And like a child, told how to banish banshees and bad dreams, she closes her eyes.
And counts to ten.
When she opens them again,
though he has gone,
she finds him within,
the reflection
of her own
empty
gaze.
For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known. ~ 1 Corinthians, 13:23
