forest in her eyes

Feyre Head Canon

During her time in the Spring Court, she still paints. One night she could not sleep, so she starts to paint her room, just like she did the Cabin.

Instead of being obvious like the cabin, she hides her family in the colors. Shades of Mor’s hair. Flowers the shade of Rhys’s eyes. A sparkling pond swirls the same shade of silver as Amren’s eyes. She paints a birch forest with the shades of hazel eyes. The reds in her room are the same as her favorite wingspan. Her blacks always have a hint of blue. Her blues a hint of cobalt. Her room is covered in all the colors of the rainbow.

Every night she is surrounded by those she loves, her home.

One day Azriel is able to finally access the Spring Court. He waits in Feyre’s room and is shocked to see the endless mural that hides from her enemies her true home.

When he returns to Velaris, he shares the image with Rhys. Not to sadden him, but to remind him that they will always be her home.

The Little Girl with False Red Eyes

In the hustle and bustle of the local village the Little Girl did not have red eyes. The red tinted glasses her grandmother had gifted her did not fool the people of the village in the daylight, but this was okay, as it was not their purpose to fool the people of the village in the daylight.

The Little Girl who did not have red eyes would go to the bakery and buy a loaf of bread. The Little Girl who did not have red eyes would go to the butcher and buy a piece of meat. The Little Girl who did not have red eyes would tap her stick on the ground to see her way in and out of every stall at the marketplace, for the Little Girl who did not have red eyes, in fact, had no eyes at all.

In the dark tree tunnels of the forest the Little Girl had red eyes. The red tinted glasses her grandmother had gifted her did indeed fool the animals of the forest in the shadows of the foliage, this was fortunate, as it was their purpose to fool the animals of the forest in the shadows of the foliage.

The Little Girl who had red eyes would stumble across the bridge under which the Great Troll lived. The Little Girl who had red eyes would trip past the old oak in which the Elder Owl sat. The Little Girl who had red eyes would cautiously crawl atop the log through which the Dread Serpent slept. The Little Girl who had red eyes would pass each dangerous beast with ease through the twists of the forest path, for the Little Girl who had red eyes, in fact, had the eyes of the Red Eyed Wolf.

Of all the terrifying beasts in the forest, none were as feared as the Red Eyed Wolf, and it was the Red Eyed Wolf who was not fooled by the Little Girl with false red eyes. She saw the trickery for what it was and watched as she passed beast after beast without fear, and so the Red Eyed Wolf stood in the path of the Little Girl.

“Please allow me passage,” pleaded the Little Girl with false red eyes. “I do not walk your woods with arrogance Ms Wolf, I simply must deliver this food to my grandmother, she is old and frail you see.”

“There are safer paths around the woods child,” said the Red Eyed Wolf. “Why do you take the one known to be perilous, the one that causes you to trip and fall so?”

“The path around is too long,” said the Little Girl. “I am small and blind and cannot travel quickly, my grandmother’s food will spoil.”

“On the long path you risk spoiled food, on the short path you risk your life. I would consider your choice foolish.” The Red Eyed Wolf said after a moment of thought.

“Perhaps it is foolish Ms Wolf, but still I do it.” said the Little Girl. “I love my grandmother so and I will do you any favour you wish to have safe passage through your woods. I am not strong and I am not wise, I cannot even see, but any favour you ask of me, I will do it.”

The Red Eyed Wolf thought of the generous offer, for indeed it was generous. The Little Girl put a lot at risk for the sake of another and was willing to put herself in dept to a beast so as to continue her perilous task, and relied upon only a false pair of red eyes to protect her from all the other beasts that she passed on her journey.

The Red Eyed Wolf had watched and waited for the Great Troll to realised the trickery and leap at the Little Girl from under his bridge, but he never did. The Red Eyed Wolf had waited for the Elder Owl to grow wise to the illusion and snatch up the Little Girl in her sharp talons, but she never did. The Red Eyed Wolf had waited for the Dread Serpent to wake to the lie and gobble the Little Girl up in their large mouth, but they never did.

The Red Eyed Wolf realised that the Little Girl had most likely imagined each scenario herself, perhaps with even greater fear as she could not even see the great creatures of the forest that stories told of. The Little Girl with false red eyes was a creature of great generosity, the Red Eyed Wolf had decided, and great generosity was an invaluable treasure.

“Child, I will grant you the passage you seek,” decided the Red Eyed Wolf. “I will meet you at the forest mouth and guide you along your path that you may travel without fear of falling. I will ask one favour of you for each journey, if the favour is not paid by the journey’s end I will eat you.”

The Little Girl smiled. “I will grant you each favour without fail, I promise this.”

Each day the Little Girl with false red eyes would enter the woods, and each day the Red Eyed Wolf would guide her, a little hand nestled among soft fur as the Red Eyed Wolf warned of gnarled roots along the ground or large stones that laid in the path. As usual neither Troll nor Owl nor even Serpent bothered them on their journey, and it was as they crossed the bridge that the Red Eyed Wolf made her first request.

“Child I request you tell me, what does the Great Troll smell of?”

“The Great Troll smells of the pond Ms Wolf, of stagnant water and mossy stone.”

The Red Eyed Wolf was pleased by this. The second request of the Red Eyed Wolf on the second journey through the woods was asked as they passed the old oak.

“Child I request you tell me, what does the Elder Owl smell of?”

“The Elder Owl smells of the trees Ms Wolf, of woody bark and sweet sap.”

The Red Eyed Wolf was pleased by this. The third request of the Red Eyed Wolf on the third journey through the woods was asked as they walked along the Dread Serpent’s log.

“Child I request you tell me, what does the Dread Serpent smell of?”

“The Dread Serpent smells of the ground Ms Wolf, of long grass and fallen leaves.

The Red Eyed Wolf was pleased by this. The Red Eyed Wolf asked many more questions of the Little Girl, she asked the smell of the flowers along the end of the path, the smell of the rain on stormy days, the smell of the fungi that grew on the trees in the darkest parts of the woods.

The Little Girl with false red eyes answered every question, some with difficulty as she did not have the words, others with ease as the words came naturally off her tongue, without fail she would answer them all until she had described the scent of everything there was to smell in the woods. The Red Eyed Wolf was very impressed.

"You have the nose of a wolf.” she told her.

One day the Little Girl with the Wolf’s Nose had almost reached the end of the woods when she realised the Red Eyed Wolf had not made a single request that day, fearing some sort of trickery, the Little Girl told the Red Eyed Wolf of the smell of her home, of the smoke from the hearth and the flowers that sat outside the front window. The Red Eyed Wolf said nothing, so the Little Girl continued, describing the scents of the marketplace, she described the smells of the fresh meat and the warm bread, of the vegetables and fruits and even the people.

The end of the path was nearing and the Little Girl with the Wolf’s Nose did not stop. She described the smell of garlic on her fingers after cooking dinner and how it lingered no matter how much she scrubbed. She described the smell of her grandmother when she hugged her goodbye, the scent of barley sugar on her breath. The Little Girl talked of the scents of her past and the scents of the present and the scents she hoped to encounter in the future until she felt the sunlight on her skin and stopped, she had reached the end of the woods, and still the Red Eyed Wolf had said nothing.

“Why have you not made a request this journey? Do you intend to eat me after all?” the Little Girl with the Wolf’s Nose asked.

“I will not eat you this day,” said the Red Eyed Wolf. “Nor will I eat you any day to come, you have given me a great gift child, you have taken me on a journey through your home and your village. You have shared your life with me and shown me things I could never have imagined within and without my home in the woods.

"The truth is child I have only once left these woods and during that time I encountered a man who wished to take my fur. I escaped his trap with my life and with scars along my snout. I can hardly smell even the strongest of scents since that day, a world without smell to a wolf might as well be a world without sight to a human.”

The Little Girl understood.

The Red Eyed Wolf made no more requests of the Little Girl with the Wolf’s Nose, she had no need to as the Little Girl freely became the nose of her friend, sharing every scent she encountered with her companion who responded in kind, freely becoming the true red eyes of the Little Girl who had none.

At the mouth of the woods Sightless Girl leapt upon Scentless Wolf and two became one, one who traveled with ease and grace, one who knew the forest in every way it could be known, one who could touch and taste and hear and see and smell.

And where the path ended, so did they, once again becoming Sightless Girl and Scentless Wolf, but neither were sad at the departure.

Both Girl and Wolf had many many days to live, and they would join one another at the mouth of the woods for each and every one of them.


I drew a picture once of a blind Little Red Riding Hood with the Wolf as her guide dog so I felt like writing a story to go with it


Kwami of Creation & Fortune, mother of the fae, spring of new life and protector of peace.

This ephemeral being drifts through the primordial forests, flowers and new life blossoming in her footsteps. Those who lay eyes upon her are said to be blessed with tranquility and prosperity. But the carapace of the lady is as hard as steel, and when the skies are darkest, the queen is ready for war.

Maybe you weren’t the only one to hurt me. Maybe you were just the one who did it last, the one who was really fucking good at it, too. But every time I look at you I see their faces, their lies and the trauma that ensued.” She looked away from him now, out on the city skyline of the streetcorner they met on for the first time. He was looking at her in his “Fuck, Sunny” way, steely forest eyes and fists clenched in determination.
“How can you blame me for your own insecure instability? It’s not my fucking fault that they hurt you, Sanora.” She looked away from him now; she couldn’t control her tears, but she could control if he saw them.
“I know, Kaleb. Jesus, don’t you think I fucking know that? It’s not your fault they hurt me, but it is your fault that you did.
—  Long ass excerpt from a book that I might be trying to write?
Glamours pt. 1

“Pretzel!” Tex, my roommate, waved at me and motioned to the corner she had set up in and motioned for me to come over. “What are you doing out so late?”
“It’s not that late.”
“Yeah, it is. It’s-” Tex glanced at her laptop, “two thirty in the morning. What are you doing in the library at two thirty in the morning? You have morning classes.”
“I was just studying. The time must’ve gotten away from me.”
“Where exactly were you studying? ‘Cause you don’t want to end up in… Certain Places.” Tex shuddered, remembering the time she vanished for three days before her boyfriend dragged her out of the forest, feet bleeding and eyes wild.
“I appreciate you worrying about me, but I’m fine. I’ve got, like, five pounds of salt packets sewn into my clothes, and a bunch of nails in my pockets.” I pulled a rusted nail out and showed it to her. “Besides, what are you doing in the library so late? Don’t you have morning classes too?”
“Couldn’t sleep, so I’m binge watching Netflix.” She turned her laptop towards me, which was halfway through an episode.
“Well, try and get some sleep. I’m heading back to the dorms.” I shouldered my bag and started to head for the exit.
“Be careful!”

Keep reading

In the tentative first days after truths and confessions come out, Dean thinks if he and Cas are gonna really have a go at this and try to be a couple, it might be easier if to do it away from the monsters and lore and crisis- and hell, maybe it’s past time they stepped away and took a break for their own mental health, anyway.

The cabin is remote and spacious, and, frankly, Dean loves it the moment he lays eyes on her. What with the forest for miles in ever direction, the trails leading into the woods or toward the mirrored lake’s edge, and the animals who are curious rather than afraid.

There’s an empty barn out back and little dog that likes to sit on the wood pile and watch them as they chop firewood, which is something of a novelty Dean finds therapeutic in a way. He tells Cas they aren’t keeping the dog, but the former angel insists they’re not getting much choice in the matter as the dog seems to have adopted them. Dean just sighs when Cas names him Toto.

Things are awkward and cozy and new and great, and Dean’s pretty sure he never wants to leave the cabin save for runs into town for supplies. He doesn’t even say anything when Toto hops in Cas’ truck cabin and settles between them for the ride.

For the first time in Dean’s life, things are pretty much perfect.

honestly though, let’s talk about bella/edythe:

  • a century old vampire finally having her “oh my god, i’m a lesbian?” moment in denali
  • tanya rejoices, until she is rejected again
  • bella having her “well, it kind of fucking figures that I, of all people, would fall for the gorgeous sparkling killer aphrodite vampire” moment
  • “and i mean yeah she’s a girl too, but vampire”
  • edythe running bella around mountains and forests on her back like a sack of potatoes
  • bella closes her eyes because it makes her dizzy and because edythe’s hair fucking hurts whipping around like that
  • (edythe gets ponytail holders and bobby pins for christmas)
  • bella braids edythe’s hair in the meadow and edythe never lets anyone else ever touch her hair ever again
  • charlie and bella have a classic awkward conversation about it
  • “so uh dad i’m dating edythe cullen now…”
  • “huh. okay. alright. cool, cool….”
  • “dr. cullen’s daughter?”
  • “let me tell you about how good and precious and lovely and wonderful that man is i swear the world turned upside down when he came into this town, but uh….. yeah, right. edythe. right.”
  • esme reacts to edythe finally finding love: “she’s a girl? okay, but when can i meet her?”
  • edythe: “but my sin… her soul……. i am thrice damned……”
  • esme: “bring her over for dinner, bring her over forever :)”

“Even in the midst of the midday forest sun, his eyes were as black as a starless night”

“With her long hair fluttering as she dashed, Asuna was like a shooting star that had suddenly appeared at the bottoms of darkness.”

Sword Art Online Progressive 01: Aria on a Starless Night

milevenge  asked:



Rain trickles down her back; her shirt is soaked and heavy, her thin wind breaker useless with the angle the water falls. Her jaw trembles and her breath is white. She almost can’t inhale; it’s as though her lungs are being ripped to shreds.

In the grasp of her numb hands are the handlebars of her bike. The metal is freezing to the touch; so cold it’s almost hot.

Her nose is bleeding and she is crying. The tears that roll down her cheeks seem to sear her skin. She walks along the roadside, close to the forest, head down and eyes on the soggy mulch below.

Her shoes are ruined. Hop will be disappointed. Maybe even mad.

El tries not to think of that. She raises her gaze to the horizon, catching the road sign for Maple (she is meant to stay at Joyce’s tonight because Hop is working graveyard). She feels a little bit of hope at this; she’s almost home. Everything will be better soon.

“El, wait!”

At his voice she has almost no choice but to turn. He does that to her. Makes her lose her will. Makes her fall and catches her each time.

He’s skidding on his bike, desperately fighting for control. El takes mercy on him by halting the wheels. Mike takes a moment to collect himself, panting with exertion, and then dismounts.

“Why did you run away?” He asks of her, once he’s close enough for her to hear without yelling (this is, she notices suddenly, very close).

“I just… I just thought…” her voice breaks off and that’s when she realises she wasn’t thinking at all. Now everything comes flooding over her (she remembers Troy, she remembers his laugh; she remembers the crack of his bones), and she feels like she might break.

Weakly, but desperately, she falls into his arms. Of course he catches her. He always does.

“El,” he whispers. “Jesus, you’re freezing.”

Her lip trembles and she begins to sob. Mike holds her tighter than she’s ever been held. Her heart races, and her mind goes blank. With a shuddering gasp, she tells him what’s been on her mind for a while now. “I love you.

Mike doesn’t speak. Briefly, her heart breaks. She feels within her shards of a lost cause slicing open her heart and tearing apart her soul, but then he moves his hand to her hair and pulls away (and she is paralysed).

He’s smiling. Raindrops roll off of his eyelashes like stars. “I love you, too.”

My handsome boy

The way his eyes reminded her of a forest that she could never escape, not that she would want to. Freckles that seem to out number the stars and Tina would attempt to count them all when she’d look at him sleep. Redish-orange hair that she would lose her hands in as she’d tug at his scalp. Skin was pale, almost transparent, and his veins where the rivers she’d trace gently with her fingers.
This is her handsome boy, her beautiful husband. Who’s body was covered in scars, tattered with burn marks, and seemed to filled with lines of stories than skin. He would tell her those stories almost every night, if they didn’t exhaust each other first. He had a story for every mark, blister, cut, or tear.
He was amazing in her eyes, filled with such purity that it seemed like a sin to keep him to herself. Yet, he was covered in past regrets, experienced in man’s dark side, and knows all too well how mean and cruel the world can be. He still found hope though, always filled with hope.
This is her Newton A. F. Scamander, her magic zoologist that carried exotic creatures in a case. The was his eye lashes were a tad longer than hers were something she envied. His skin that was soft to the touch, but his hands that felt like a stone that was in the river for years. Rough on some parts, but smooth and satisfying on others.
She tried not to think of his beauty around her sister, especially with how he looked in the morning after. He’d say she looked like she was glowing, but he lighted up the room more than the sun did. Though he was just a man, with how confidential he felt during certain times, he was more of a beast than anything in his case. She found that astounding. To compare a beautiful, tall, lanky man, to anything in his miniature zoo felt unequaled. Out of proportion. Absurd, if she told anyone.
How could a man with the gentlest heart, filled head to toe with compassion, and poured out loyalty and honesty, compare to a beast?
In his own words, beast are not monsters, just the most misunderstood creatures.
That’s what he was, a misunderstood creature who had its heart shattered and feared the worse in people as he searched for the best. That is who her Newt was.

“A true Hufflepuff.”

Everyone would tell her in England, as if it was an insult of some form, she just found it more endearing. For such a majestic man, could fall for a bland girl like her, it seemed unreal. It seemed too good to be true, too much of a fairy tale, and maybe it’s one she’ll believe completely.

I was reading The Danish Girl and I can stop thinking of Newt while i read it. It’s during the 1920’s for crying out loud! Anyways, hope you liked me comparing the beauty that is Newt aka Eddie Redmayne. (Kill me if he sees this.)


this heart, fossilized and silent (once was tender and once was violent) written by chrmdpoet
↳ “I am the same person who sacrificed you at the mountain.”

Clarke takes a deep breath that burns in her lungs and she is surprised when Lexa bends to press her lips to the flesh of her chest, just above the swell of her clothed breast. It is as if she knows, as if she is trying to soothe the pain.

“I will always belong to my people, Clarke,” Lexa says, “no matter how I might wish to belong to you.”

Clarke’s heart clenches and stutters and her mind swims with the image of Lexa’s eyes in the glowing forest, with the sound of her soft voice whispering, “Yours.” Her throat feels painfully dry, her thick swallow is like a jagged rock shredding her esophagus, and she shifts back so that she can better look into Lexa’s eyes. “I know,” she whispers, and she does.

“If ever a choice must be made, I will choose my people.”

Clarke closes her eyes and squeezes Lexa’s hand tighter. “I know,” she whispers again.

She tries to fight the wobble of her bottom lip, the stinging in her eyes, when she feels Lexa shift again and then chapped lips press to her forehead. “And I will always be a part of your pain, Clarke.”

Clarke pulls Lexa closer, slipping her arms more fully around her and hugging their bodies tightly together.[..]
She nuzzles the warm skin of Lexa’s neck and brushes her lips along its slope. “You will also always be the only one who can soothe it.”

Journey to the West


She was going to find those dragon balls. None of the boys at school were satisfactory; she needed the perfect boyfriend that would woo everyone. A total hottie. Someone that’d make the girls even more jealous of her than they already were. It was so easy to dream about it as she zoomed down the empty trail through the mountainous forest, her eyes occasionally glancing at her radar to see how close the nearest dragon ball was. She had three; four more to go.

She wondered what he’d look like. Would he be blonde? Hn… She liked darker hair better. Silky dark hair. And he’d better have mysterious dark eyes, too. Tan skin. It’d be preferable if he was tall, too! And to be so romantic–! And he could be a good kisser, and never demand to touch her butt or do puff-puffs like that one asshole she dated a year or two ago did. Hnf. Sure, she let guys touch her butt in order to get something she couldn’t otherwise get, but how often was that? She was the richest, smartest girl in West City! She only went to school for fun, it’s not like she actually needed to attend!

She was broken from her thoughts by– by the sound of things breaking, actually. She slowed her motorcycle to a stop when she heard the noise up ahead, and widened her eyes when she realized she could see trees being flung around and a forest fire nearby. Eep! She began backing her motorcycle up, but just as she did, a giant log landed right behind her, crushing the back of her motorcycle. Maybe she should have made a bodyguard before she went on this adventure.

She got off the motorcycle in a heartbeat and was thankful to see that the button to capsule it was still untouched, and swapped it out as quickly as she could for another vehicle in her case, a little car. She all but yelled when another tree landed in front of her, thankfully not destroying her car. She jumped inside the vehicle and started backing up as quickly as she could, wondering in the back of her head if there was another way of getting around this dumb mountain.

There is a type of love that is too much. It is a strange, uncomfortable expansion, a sensation that skin is temporary and we are hollows where candles are burning. These are rare fog moments. The ache of your childhood dog. The sunset over the one place you feel at home. Forests in sunlight. Fields in mist. Her freckles. The way his eyes look when he’s laughing. When she called you her best friend. A flower where you least expect it. Birds against skies, soundless overhead. How he looked when he said he loved you. Two deer, watching you, wary, but somehow belonging to you because for a moment, this temporal web has brought you to them. And then it is gone and the moment is broken.

Mildred Looked at the Forest, and Unfortunately...Cried.

“Daddy, Daddy, why do all the people we know, or almost, say things they don’t think ?? What are they afraid of ?” Said Mildred to her daddy who was a dude who had abilities of education and dialogue with children.

“Well, baby……….it’s…..because…..what’s most important for them is… be well considered.”
Mildred looked at the forest before the house, her eyes suddenly kinda vague, yet we could know that she was deeply thinking about Daddy’s answer…

“Daddy, daddy, are you meaning that they will be better considered if they lie most of the time ?? This is terribly saddening…I know lies ! There is a group of children at school who lie, mainly to get things during games. I don‘t like that. But…so….it gets worse and worse with years passing ? What is to be an adult then, my Daddy ?”

“Honey. You saw the stuff. “Adults” are children that dug their flaws, deeper and deeper. They are NOT interested in truth, but mainly in entertainment, and social status and position. And if it was just that…”

Again, Mildred looked at the forest, and this time, a start of tears began to appear in her delicate brown eyes. But, she still wanted to know more.

“Daddy…..what is this that….what do they do. Tell me. I know about wars, but it remains in a scholar environment, quite abstract”.

“We’re gonna go for a walk. I refuse to see these beautiful eyes that we built with Mommy be sad because of mankind’s turpitudes”.

To be continued.

Basile Pesso, Barcelona, 18 March 2 017
The Cure, A Forest

You like that girl with the wild garden mind. She threw herself off a mountain and landed with flowers in her hair. She has a nomadic heart. She doesn’t care what’s going on if you say it’s going on. Because there’s something somewhere else that’s really going on and so she’s gone. You’d like to follow her for a while. To show her where the end is and to ask if she’d like to hold hands. She’d just smile, wave and leave you there.

And she’s so beautiful. If she’d just sit still…. But then you see your world’s too small to keep a girl who keeps nothing. Now if she’d just sit still… But she already knows you just put things on shelves and in rows and in dark closets stacked with boxes. And there’s not enough room in your world for forests, caves and foxes. And you call it chaos in her eyes. It’s just freedom you can’t handle. And her unconcern for what you keep near makes you see it’s just cowardice you hold dear.

She’s the pet bird who flew out the window. What do you call a pet that just leaves? Guess she wasn’t a pet. And what you call desire feels like containment to her. And the two uncontaminated pennies of purity left in your heart cry out for her. But she just leaves you to curse your cheapness.

You could have thrown the world away and had it all. And her threadbare abundance makes you starve in harvest season. And you’d like to hold her. But your embrace only seeks to conquer. And as she twists away. You see you can’t conquer the wind. As she twists away. Sky eyed.

—  Roomanitarian by Henry Rollins
Cursed - The Beginning

                                                       { music }

      Dark clouds blacked out the stars and the precious light of the moon, but Bastet wouldn’t let the blackness that shrouded the forest stop her– keen eyes had already adjusted, and her steps were swift with as much grace as the felines she adored. Silently she prayed to Elune to keep the bundle in her arms safe and slumbering as she hurried to meet the dark stranger– he’d assured her he could help, so long as she was willing to make a deal, and she was; she would do anything to save her son.

Keep reading


Scarlet quietly snuck out of the castle that night, her cloak tightly wrapped around her body as she walked away from what she had once believed was her happiness. Now, she saw that it was her nightmare. Rumple had changed over the years due to his magic and it was tearing them apart, as much as she hated to admit it. Though, it was the truth. It was just a few months ago she found out she was pregnant, which was what led her to leave him. Whether he knew or not was past her. A child couldn’t be raised in this mess of their relationship. This would be easier… To leave and bring new life to their child. It would be okay.

As she walked through the forest, she found her eyes curiously staring at a strange object. It was round, a light humming noise coming from it. She hesitantly started towards it, simply curious of what it was. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. She went towards it against the warning of the trees. She reached her fingers towards it to touch the edge of it when she realized what it was. It was much too late, however. It pulled her inside, sending her falling to another dimension.

She screamed as she fell. Scarlet shut her eyes tightly to try and pretend like this wasn’t happening. When she landed upon a field of flowers and tall grass, she felt relieved. It had stopped. Now, to figure out exactly where she was…

Forest Green Eyes

Characters: Bishamon, Kazuma

Ship: Kazubisha

Bishamon sighed as she ran her fingers through her floor-length, blonde hair. The bright sun’s ray shine through the windows and lit up the God of War’s gorgeous hair. Bishamon felt her exemplar’s eyes stare at her back intently. She tried not to fidget. It’s been over a month since the incident with Kuguha and the once indestructible bond between her and her Kazuma seemed to have been tethered. It had stung her more than any slash that Heaven could deliver.

“Something the matter, Kazuma?” Bishamon asked softly, yet due to the silence it seemed to rang like thunder.

“No, Bishamonten-sama.” Kazuma’s voice rang out like smooth velvet. Bishamon turned her head slightly so she could see her exemplar’s eyes. The dark green color of his eyes reminded her of spring forests. Green eyes that seemed to fixated her unimaginably. She remembered when those eyes once held almost laughable innocence and curiosity. But those days were gone now. Now those green eyes seemed to brew the untouchable leader that Bishamon new her Kazuma was.

“No need to be formal.” Bishamon turned back to the mirror. “We are in private, Kazuma. Come over and comb my hair, please.”

Without a word, almost like a given instinct, Bishamon felt her exemplar glide to the back of her. From where she was sitting, she could only make out his military suit and somewhat of his chin. Kazuma reached for the comb that laid on her dresser. Bishamon caught sight of his name that was engrave on his hand. She resisted the urge to touch it, to hold it. Perhaps there was a time where they could cross that border at any moment and everything would be fine. But now, after all she did to him, she couldn’t bare the guilt that seemed to plague whenever she stared at his hand. The same hand that cross over that doorway so long ago. That same hand that had  rise up and cast a borderline against her, his own master. The hand seemed to linger above the handle of the comb, almost as Kazuma could hear her thoughts. He probably could, or at the very least she was signaling an anguish expression.

 Kazuma grabbed the comb tightly and raised it above Bishamon’s head, and rather softly, almost pleasurably, began to run his hand and the comb through her long pale tresses. They stood like that for a few minutes. The realm of silence fell on them once more.

Bishamon couldn’t bare the silence any further. The two of them once-almost to an annoyance to others-indulged with one another on a normal basis. But now it seemed like she rarely sees her exemplar. “It seems that Yato has gain some land in Takamagahara.” she said. She already knew that Kazuma had heard that Yato had became a god in Heaven. Yato was, after all, his “benefactor”. 

Kazuma softly hummed behind her. “Yes, it seems like Hiyori-san has built a shrine for his own use.” he said. “I simply pray that it will satisfy him for the time being and he keeps up his work.”

Bishamon nodded. “And it seems that my shrine has been in constant repair since the incident,” Bishamon said and she allowed her eyes to stare directly at the mirror. Form her resting position, she barely could make out Kazuma’s chin. “No doubt another fine work by you, Kazuma.”

Kazuma seemed to had stopped for a moment before continuing on his mission with combing her hair. “It was rather simple really. I simply claimed it as historical property damage.”

Bishamon nodded, not trusting her own voice. She mentally cursed that Kazuma was still being obnoxiously formal. Despite the embarrassment she might feel if she said it aloud, Bishamon longed for Kazuma to say her pet name. The name she asked for him to call her.

She turned around aburtly, and Kazuma-albeit poorly trying not to-let out a feminate squeal. If it was any other moment, Bishamon would had laugh at her exemplar, but now it seemed that the age of laughter was over, and the time for resolving was eminent. 

She rose from her chair. “Kazuma,” she seemed to call out in a half plea. Bishamon couldn’t make out those forest green orbs of his, the glare from the sun’s rays caused Kazuma’s glasses to shine brightly. 

He placed the comb back on her dresser. “If that is all, Bishamonten-sama, then I have some work to do.”

Bishamon’s mouth slightly dropped. Was he really trying to pull away from her? Had he pushed away and locked the centuries they had built together? Did he truly believe he was that unworthy? He wasn’t. Far from it exactly. Kazuma was-is Bishamon’s greatest comrade and friend. No, he was more then that. Kazuma was her other half. The more controlled, kind half. He gave her guidence and asked nothing in return. He save her damn life, while risking his own. Yet he remained pure, unlike his other comrades, and risked asking a god of calamity to help him. Bishamon, was for once, grateful for Yato. He could had killed Kazuma, but stayed his hand and save her from her own damnation. Yet, Kazuma remained despite the threat if she had found out. He had to pull through as he watched his master assulted his benefactor. He was more then a comrade, no matter what the heavens would say. She need him as much as he need her.

“Kazu,” she pleaded. But they fell onto death ears, and she felt her heart sank. Despite that, she stood up straighten and nodded. She will get her blessed vessel back. She will get her Kazuma back. “You have my leave to go.”

Kazuma bowed and when he raised his head, for that slight moment, Bishamon could make out those green eyes, but they were gone before she could have the chance to drown in them.

She slumped back into her chair. Heaven, she thought, almost as taking it in vain, “this is going to take a long time.