He isn’t sure what he’s doing here anymore.
He exhales slowly, white tendrils from the depths of his chest to the sky, hands, if they can be called so, sliding into the pockets of his hoodie, it’s far too big for him, falls down to his knees, but it makes for a subtle foil to the crimson scarf hanging about his slender neck.
”I can’t read the name”
His ear turns back, slowly, but it’s the only sign of movements he gives, save his breathing, seconds pass, minutes.
They’ve been there for hours, it’s nice out, cold yes, but green, the mosses are blooming, a green splash against the gray canvas that the gravestone creates. He said on the way here that he wished it would rain, that there would be a romantic sort of irony to that, She’d smiled in return, and agreed, silently yes but agreed she had.
The cold nips at her, even past the gray coat she wears, and the olive scarf. Her chocolate coloured eyes are darker than his, his are the colour of coffee and cream. Except, sometimes, when she catches them out of the corners of her eyes, they look like jade, just for a moment.
But that can’t be possible.
The silence falls again, there’s a weight to it, but it isn’t awkward. Nor suffocating, her head tilts a bit, gaze shifts skyward. “Looks like you may get that rain after all” and she offers a smile, she smiles a lot, even when she doesn’t want to smile, she smiles, because she knows that he needs it sometimes.
It’s said with a little upward bob of the head, and if it means anything than the meaning is lost.
”It’s mine” the words are spoken in an easy drawl, for a moment, the doe can almost hear the trace of an old accent in his voice.
”I can feel this body dying all around me” the unicorn stallion quotes slowly, pulls himself up onto the stone, balanced easily atop it, tail trailing almost to the ground, his gaze pierces her, like chocolate, but molten, drawing inwards with sugar and the promise of something sweet, only to scald in the end.
Her lips quirk upwards, just a bit, in a smile. ”A wonderful quote”. She meets his gaze, and the seriousness of his gaze disarms any attempt at playful banter. ”I shall accompany you until the day that day comes” she states instead, her expression is not grim, nor is it entirely ‘serious’. It is serene, it is the face of one who knows so much, and despite it all, loves.
Her tail flicks behind her, it’s short in the sense that it extends only just so past the normal length of her spine, but the fur is long, it drags gently along the ground at the tips, His is longer, but he holds it just so, above the ground. As if the thought of being filthy repulses him. It doesn’t. But the thought doesn’t stir any joy in him either.
The doe shifts her weight, her pretty golden hooves are tarnished in the mud and the moss, she doesn’t notice, and if she does, she doesn’t care. ”Why don’t we go eat, my treat” she offers, and her smile is back, her own chocolate coloured eyes are warm, but not scalding, they are perfectly sweet and wonderful.
”If you like”
But she knows that tone, he’s happy with this, he can’t resist food, he’ll eat until he’s sick if she lets him.
”Come along then”
The rain starts.
And He smiles.