[Sal didn't interrupt Anathema's impromptu lecture—she couldn't, and maybe you could say she was too caught off guard by that tiny, near-missable concession before it. It's surprising, almost startlingly off the cuff, and it makes Sal look over again, openly staring as Anathema goes on about couples and flowers, ancient rituals and blood sacrifices. She wasn't able to come up with anything clever to say, and by now they're standing at the end of the block and waiting to cross the street.
It's a lovely, mild evening. The sun is edging closer to the horizon, its departure leaving a beautiful tapestry of color across the sky. And here they are standing on the sidewalk, side by side, a new adventure waiting just ahead. Sal remembers the letter she sent, the muddied words, phrases lost between one city and the other. Even if she hadn't botched that mission, she understands clearly now that what she had written down wasn't exactly what she meant to say. Not all of it, at least.]
Do you mind if—
[Now whose turn is it to feel anxious and awkward, eh? Sal pulls away for a moment, just so they can stand more easily face to face. The street is quiet, there's no cause for a sudden interruption. Sal's looking at Anathema and again she's overtaken by that same warm feeling.
The sudden breathlessness strikes before she can finish her question. Her usual striking gaze softens, trailing up from the lines of Anathema's collarbone, up the slender curves of her neck, tracing along the familiar edges of her jaw to stop at her mouth. Time stops for the moment of a single stuttering heartbeat before she looks up and the two women can meet each other's eyes.
Sal stands a little straighter, blinking away her momentary haze. Hesitation isn't any good tonight. She has to say what she means for once, because she remembers in the space of every cold and lonely evening the consequences of silence. Of pulling away from what your heart wants, to allow the demons of your past to rule over your future. She offers a small smile, the sort she's only given to one person on this particular world, a place so different from her old home.
I don't entirely mind being stranded in this new universe, away from home. You're another reason.]
Can I give you a kiss?
[It comes out surprisingly confident. Not that Sal is certain about the response, not when the entire rest of this day has been nothing but surprises, but she's sure of one thing at least. She doesn't move, only waits for a response and a sign.]
no subject
[Sal didn't interrupt Anathema's impromptu lecture—she couldn't, and maybe you could say she was too caught off guard by that tiny, near-missable concession before it. It's surprising, almost startlingly off the cuff, and it makes Sal look over again, openly staring as Anathema goes on about couples and flowers, ancient rituals and blood sacrifices. She wasn't able to come up with anything clever to say, and by now they're standing at the end of the block and waiting to cross the street.
It's a lovely, mild evening. The sun is edging closer to the horizon, its departure leaving a beautiful tapestry of color across the sky. And here they are standing on the sidewalk, side by side, a new adventure waiting just ahead. Sal remembers the letter she sent, the muddied words, phrases lost between one city and the other. Even if she hadn't botched that mission, she understands clearly now that what she had written down wasn't exactly what she meant to say. Not all of it, at least.]
Do you mind if—
[Now whose turn is it to feel anxious and awkward, eh? Sal pulls away for a moment, just so they can stand more easily face to face. The street is quiet, there's no cause for a sudden interruption. Sal's looking at Anathema and again she's overtaken by that same warm feeling.
The sudden breathlessness strikes before she can finish her question. Her usual striking gaze softens, trailing up from the lines of Anathema's collarbone, up the slender curves of her neck, tracing along the familiar edges of her jaw to stop at her mouth. Time stops for the moment of a single stuttering heartbeat before she looks up and the two women can meet each other's eyes.
Sal stands a little straighter, blinking away her momentary haze. Hesitation isn't any good tonight. She has to say what she means for once, because she remembers in the space of every cold and lonely evening the consequences of silence. Of pulling away from what your heart wants, to allow the demons of your past to rule over your future. She offers a small smile, the sort she's only given to one person on this particular world, a place so different from her old home.
I don't entirely mind being stranded in this new universe, away from home. You're another reason.]
Can I give you a kiss?
[It comes out surprisingly confident. Not that Sal is certain about the response, not when the entire rest of this day has been nothing but surprises, but she's sure of one thing at least. She doesn't move, only waits for a response and a sign.]