Lips Of An Angel
07-18-2013, 10:38 AM
He wouldn't look at her. Wouldn't even open his eyes at one point, but Orica's tones called to him. She needed him to hear, she just had to know. Their eyes met for what could only be the last time, at least for many seasons. Then came the answer. It was slow and halting, painful even - of course it was; sadists could enjoy some breeds of pain but no one liked guilt. And guilt was exactly what Orica made him felt, to which her little mind had mixed feelings: it gave the male reason enough to hate her and want her to leave, but on the other hand, the fact that he could still feel guilt had to be a good sign at some level. She was glad, not for herself, but for him. He'd been kind, and she wanted him to remember that. Maybe time would wear it all away, but for now, Orica had hope. The tip of her tail curled happily, and a hint of a bright eyed grin was just beginning to show on her muzzle, when she turned away. The compass resumed its homeward direction, and, hitching up her hind legs, she started for home with a couple of bounds. She knew she was gonna catch he-- when she got back. She know that the odds of time were against things, but in that one, beautiful morning, she was hopeful. --END-- |