Promises, Promises
She whispers promises into the hands cupped around her mouth and places them in her pockets, trying to keep them as warm and cherished as her fingers. Winter has come to the land of fire and the nights have become longer than is bearable.
She brushes snow from her hair and trudges on. Her feet are small and leave deep tracks in the white clay. The mistakes she makes all become rubbed away; erased soon enough in the grand scheme of things. She isn't large enough to leave snow angels that stay in the drifts.
His feet are never bare anymore. He can't stand the sight of the things that he walked away on.
It would also mean taking off the shoes he's worn since childhood. They're a piece of a self that he used to be that he doesn't want to leave behind. He can't bear the thought of leaving the leathery tomes by the wayside. They're compilations of every second of the life he's lived and proof of every day he spent with people who loved him.
He can't bear looking at his feet anymore because of how far they've walked. They remind him of how much farther there is still to go.
He doesn't want to see them in transition because that means that he hasn't yet stepped into his father's and mother's and expectations' shoes. He isn't quite there yet.
His knees are always bruised.
He kneels at an ebony stone every morning, every night, every Tuesday at lunch when they used to eat together, every time he loses someone, every time he gets a little stronger, he gets a little angrier or she gets a little lost in the shuffle. He goes there when he's just returned home, when he's upset.
He spends hours in the dirt and doesn't really mind.
No one ever notices.
He hasn't worn shorts since the war.
His smile never wavers. Sometimes he wants it to, but he never lets that want overpower the worlds need to see him shine. . They need me.
So he takes her hand and steals the promises pressed into her palm.
He looks him in the eye and tells him that all he needs to do is find that worn, winding path home and everything will be okay again. And he means it.
He doesn't say a word, but stands beside him as he kneels for hours.