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He's not going to ever love her.
She baked the worst cookies she's ever made, but ate four of them while the tears were brewing in her eyes. She must have known this from the very beginning, but she only will tell herself the truth now: he's not coming out of that castle to see her.
He's happy in his castle. He's happy in his high/low. He's content with his lot in life. She was another in a long line of pleasant distractions that he knows will end.
She had been unaware of it all.
She was aware now.
The rain was about to come. She'd put a candle on and welcome it.
Let's be real. She does not love unconditionally. She loves on the condition that - and she weeps into the yellow cup to realize or say this - she loves on the condition that ...
she pauses to put her dyed eyelashed eyes into her fisted hands and sob out loud as the heavy salted water drops like lead mercury from her eyes.
The condition that you think she is someone you finally found after looking and looking without knowing what you were looking for... the condition that your eyes light up like a warm fire in the snowy cold when you see her.
He had had her at arms length from the beginning - only giving a slight fuck when he thought his gravy might not be trained. Her left foot still ached from twisting it after walking after the numbing. It didn't matter.
The only solace was that she was a fucking great actress and was going to be joining the primal players for a spell in the mountains. He would be with her. He wouldn't necessarily know it was now, but he would know it would be coming. None of the fillies he had ridden turned into meres except for the one - and she was long gone for whatever reason - plopping two beloved innocents.
Narcissi did what all of those like her do after a while.
She put a cover over the mirror and wept her mother fucking eyes out.
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