Do you ever wonder how two people can become so unfamiliar with each other after sliding their secrets into the same crevices and dreams into the same clouds? How is it that you can ink yourself across the same pages as someone else for sixty-three chapters, only to eventually find that you’ve both gone blank? Did the writer of the story just forget how to finish it?
You know you love someone when you can spend the entire night sitting by the fire watching them sleep.
Title: I Really Don’t Know Love At All Characters: Keith, Allura (Voltron) Media: iPad Pro & Adobe Sketch (Lines), Cintiq + Photoshop (Colors) Notes: VLD Rare Pair Week Day 3: Sleeping. Was listening to Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now” while drawing this–because that song is amaze. Rare pair week is turning into rare pare month for me…but I’m determined to get at least one more prompt done :).
The angel is still getting used to his new body. He feels soft, fragile, weak. He can only assume the human he calls his lover is even more so. He touches them gently, afraid that his former strength might return and that they might break under his hands. He learns that it will not, that he will be painfully soft and weak for as long as this life lasts.
It is not so bad, he thinks after a while. He has learned that the teeth and nails of his new body are strong enough to sate him, and he takes comfort in knowing that they are happy to bear the marks of his discovery. He whispers his pride to his beloved, “You have been claimed by an angel.”
His curiosity gets the better of him sometimes. He wants to know more, to explore the limits of this body that still feels foreign to him. So he whispers again, still afraid his voice will deafen them, “Teach me.”
He will not speak of Heaven often. The memories haunt him at night, plaguing him while he sleeps. He complains of pains in his spine where he is still convinced wings should be. His beloved asks what troubles him, and he cannot find the words to explain the true extent of the ache. After a moment, he whispers, “It hurts.”
In the quiet moments, he muses on a word that has always bothered him. Curled against the soft form of the human he loves, he remembers the association of it with pain and resentment. He remembers how it can mean something beautiful to a human. It is still quiet. His beloved sleeps, soft limbs entangled with his, radiant in that fragile, wonderful human way he has come to adore. He whispers a realization to them:
“I would fall a thousand times to fall in love with you.”