queen anne's lace + pascal
Dec 17, 2014 22:25:43 GMT -5
Post by semper on Dec 17, 2014 22:25:43 GMT -5
I don’t remember how long we’ve been in the woods; every day has been so memorable, so captivating, that it all just meshes onto one giant stretch of soothing sunlight. Travelling has been an awfully slow going because of me and my severely unsteady gait, but Aiden never seems bothered by it. (Well, he never shows any discontent, at least.) He always keeps a firm grip on my arm to help me along while I’m nearly stumbling forward in an excited rush to explore and find new things. Being cooped up in an asylum cell for so long had stolen nearly any and all recollection of the outdoors I had had before my own mother turned me in. It’s been so long since I’ve seen flowers, felt grass between my toes, smelled the sweet aroma of soggy marshland that reminded me of the shoreline, or been there to experience nature at all. Finally, I was free. Kneeling on mushy earth, I let my quaking hand sweep along the cattail stalks that lined the clear pond’s edge. A gentle rustle sounds from the weeds, and I sweep my hand back through quicker, nearly giggling at the sensation of grass whipping around my arm. For years I suffered scratchy sheets and stiff clothes, so these soft plants are a delight. I tear a brown top off and set it on the ground, using a finger to – after many tries – cut it open, watching the cottony substance billow out like spewed guts. A grin spreads across my face and I squeak, head bobbing. Trembling fingers tug and pull the cotton out and I even put a handful against my face, squeaking excitedly even more at the almost unimaginable softness. I spin on my knees and struggle to get up. My legs don’t cooperate, jaggedly extending and jerking back, setting my foot in weird places. It’s a while before I’m able to stand somewhat balanced but I don’t hesitate to wobble over to Aiden. A gnarled, jumbled mess of noise that only vaguely resembled his name sounds from my mouth and I extend my hand, pressing the softness to his cheek. Only a second later I retract it and let the fuzzies fall to the ground. Hobbling back to the pond’s edge, I spot a patch of white flowers. Curiosity peaks and I get closer, half falling and half lowering myself back to the ground. My head can’t stay still enough for me to get a very good look, but the flower’s top looks like a rough circle filled with much smaller flowers, gorgeous as ever. My hand goes out and I pluck one of them by the stem, accidentally bending the stalk all sorts of ways with unintentional tight clutching. The flower itself, however, is still alright, so I get up and meander back to Aiden. In an overly cautious manner I tuck the flower behind my friend’s ear, trying hard to not have my hand jerk and hit his head. The amount of concentration it takes is incredible: while I can’t control every single movement, I do what I can to not harm him in any way. Accidentally striking the nurses at the asylum always ended in a swift and brutal punishment for me. Aiden wouldn’t do that to me but I would still feel bad, even if he dismissed the incident as an accident. It goes without a hitch, thankfully, and I squirm excitedly. The bright colors stand out against his dark hair and compliment his amazingly blue eyes, bringing along a delight that I haven’t felt in an incredibly long time. I try to clasp my hands together and miss, repeatedly trying again and still missing half the attempts. Eagerly I turn and go back to the flower patch to start collecting more of them. |
table by anzie <33
