week two | dates

[marriagebroker]

Kiss the girl~!

Or guy.

Or person.

Or Messmer's snake.

Comments

[gamboler]

[ Yi Sang is an absolute wildcard, in all senses of the word, but even Aventurine can't deny that he does have a knack for romance, whether even he realizes it or not. That Yingying should be drawn to him is rather sweet, and for all he still has to still learn about Yi Sang, he can't help but think that she might be a good influence on him.

But then she's mentioning him, which should perhaps be unsurprising, given their various flirtations, but he isn't used to this kind of attention. Never pursued or the pursuer, as he'd told her...

He laughs, the sound a little drawn inward, as the staff hands him back his black cat. All sewn up now! ]

And yet there are people back home I've known for years who know less about me than you do. [ Which says more to Yingying's point than anything else. ] Opening up, sharing a burden, revealing the past...it's difficult for any lonely, solitary soul to do.

[ Does she understand that too, he wonders? He suspects she too might be tremendously lonely, if even a stuffed rabbit can't keep her company. ]

[embellwish]

Of course it's difficult... you'll feel even lonelier than before, revealing the past to someone you cross paths with fleetingly.

[ Whether because of fate, or death, or any other reason. Opening up is a risk, because if things don't work out, if the person you open up to is no longer around, it feels as though you would have been better off never becoming vulnerable in the first place. Yingying understands that, and deeply. ]

At least, that's how I feel. Getting close and having fun — it always feels like a dream that I'll wake up from.

these tags were a one-two punch ouch

[gamboler]

[ He exhales, the sound sharper than he intends, for how deeply that resonates with him. ]

It...never lasts, does it.

[ Those brief flashes of joy, fleeting auroras of story books and honey cake, never last. Nothing gold can stay, and this brief reprieve of theirs is no exception. And yet...

Hadn't he stood at the edge of existence, expecting death? Hadn't he welcomed it? And yet, he's still here. He's still here. ]

...I met someone once who explained to me that sleep is the rehearsal of death. That we dream because we're not ready for the end, so we practice. Every single night...but if the dice are already weighted towards that inevitable outcome, why do we still...struggle against it?

[ "But before the end, there are many things that humans can do while on their journey. And because of this, the "end" will thus reveal a completely different meaning." ]

...Because this time, it might be different.