Spill the Sand
Apr. 15th, 2010 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shosenDo they not know where we were in the world in the times they send us to? Or are the threads of my lives so tangled even a bronze cannot trace them? Whatever the reason, the result is the same.
“We have tah leave. Now.” He’s out of his seat and on the stairs before the words are finished. As she comes out to clear the tables, he keeps his back to her, though there’s no chance of her recognizing him, wouldn’t be even without the illusion. We haven’t met yet.
She keeps her gaze down, watching the damp cloth as she brushes it over the table, blinking fast to keep her eyes clear. I remember that feeling of incompetence, of everything seeming ruined over the simple dropping of a tray, the fear that it was one crash too many. Broken dishes the end of the world, and I could almost laugh at how the scope of my world has changed.
I should just leave, but I can’t help it. I want to do something. Small and forgettable, almost nothing but not, that’s permissible, isn’t it? They didn’t explain the rules. When she walks by, I smile at her.
“Don’t worry too much. It’ll be all right.” The words are meant with the greater scope in mind, but I know she can only take them within the smaller, and won’t think of them past today.
But it makes her stop, to turn and say thank you, so polite. It makes her watch as I go to leave, both of us facing him. It’s not too horribly obvious, not yet, not until the innkeeper calls her.
“Asharan!”
Funny how your entire life, entire self, can change, but some reactions stay the same. We both jump, spin to face the kitchen. I catch myself after a step, and she runs out of our sight.
Such a little thing, but enough. I can’t read his eyes, hidden as they are by the damn goggles, but his face is still and his mouth drawn. He saw it.
Same reaction, same movement, same person. He isn’t stupid, and Hakkajin has revealed enough for him to add it to the “coincidences” and my own mistakes, and come to the right conclusion.
I am so busted.
“We have tah leave. Now.” He’s out of his seat and on the stairs before the words are finished. As she comes out to clear the tables, he keeps his back to her, though there’s no chance of her recognizing him, wouldn’t be even without the illusion. We haven’t met yet.
She keeps her gaze down, watching the damp cloth as she brushes it over the table, blinking fast to keep her eyes clear. I remember that feeling of incompetence, of everything seeming ruined over the simple dropping of a tray, the fear that it was one crash too many. Broken dishes the end of the world, and I could almost laugh at how the scope of my world has changed.
I should just leave, but I can’t help it. I want to do something. Small and forgettable, almost nothing but not, that’s permissible, isn’t it? They didn’t explain the rules. When she walks by, I smile at her.
“Don’t worry too much. It’ll be all right.” The words are meant with the greater scope in mind, but I know she can only take them within the smaller, and won’t think of them past today.
But it makes her stop, to turn and say thank you, so polite. It makes her watch as I go to leave, both of us facing him. It’s not too horribly obvious, not yet, not until the innkeeper calls her.
“Asharan!”
Funny how your entire life, entire self, can change, but some reactions stay the same. We both jump, spin to face the kitchen. I catch myself after a step, and she runs out of our sight.
Such a little thing, but enough. I can’t read his eyes, hidden as they are by the damn goggles, but his face is still and his mouth drawn. He saw it.
Same reaction, same movement, same person. He isn’t stupid, and Hakkajin has revealed enough for him to add it to the “coincidences” and my own mistakes, and come to the right conclusion.
I am so busted.