aetherkey
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a small poetry collection. works are various ages ranging from months to a decade old
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Her wavelength fluttered with courage, and it wasn't the first time. Maka was an unconquerable soul, always seeking adventure, improvement, and a love that would never slam the door in her face.
"Let's fly," she whispered. Her eyes were wide and fierce and greengreengreen, not one solid color but hues of green and forests of secrets and flecks of gold; she whisked his breath away. Soul was afraid that she hadn't spoken, that her voice was a trick of the wind, or that her words had been swallowed by the night.
But for another day, she was real, tangible, lovable.
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The engine roars in his ears and he's grateful, because what else could drown out his shuddering cries? Or worse, his meister's deafening silence?
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Two things he immediately noticed as he walked in: the joyous chime of the bell, and the moment they shared as their eyes met, lingered, and quickly fled. She greeted him cheerfully, albeit with a flush, and he continued to go about his business searching for just the right flower.
She was a short woman, with pigtails and impossibly wide eyes that watched him twist, turn -- almost growl. Even from his spot amongst the rows of flowers, he could still make out her furrowed brow, and he found it cute.
"Um, are you sure?" came a small voice. "Orchids are very difficult. I'm not sure if a beginner..."
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Lifting her weapon, he pointedly snapped, "Thank you very much." She felt the weight of the package hit her hands before she was shoved unceremoniously out of the way. She opened her eyes and smiled at the silver-tipped arrows.
Soul would love them, Maka mused as she ambled down the winding path. Ever since the traders had come he'd been eyeing them, but had never spoken up.