A/N: Just a bit of Bobble drabble I felt like writing. Nothing important or extremely significant. Just felt like drabbling.
Disclaimer: I do not own Tinkerbell. Disney owns Tinkerbell. Disney owns the world. Big brother is watching.
I don't understand. Then again, I suppose, I'll never understand. Not in a million years.
I don't know how to describe her. There aren't enough words in any of the languages, even if I started stringing them together.
She's beautiful, like a dewdrop on the most fragile of roses in the earliest morning light. Radiant. Vibrant. Magnificent to the eye.
Though, it's not like I can be much of a judge on that. My eyesight is a terrible mess. And imperfection that, in all my years of tinkering, I will never be able to truly fix.
But, oh! When I look at her it all seems so clear, as if just a brush of those crystalline etched wings would heal even the deepest, darkest shadows of my soul.
I'm not one to mope. At least, I was never one apt to moping. Then she came and my world was thrown into a tailspin, and I began to question even the slightest details about myself.
Had I always been...so unpleasant? Awkward? Yes. I had. It pained me to realize it. How could she do anything but look right through me when she was surrounded by those so much more appealing than I?
But she looked. To my astounded virtue, she looked. We were friends, to say the least, and I was content. If I could not have her in my arms, then at least I could have her in heart and sight. An arm's length away…
I can't count the number of times we stayed late in the workshop, just enjoying each other's company. My heart soared to hear her laughter; the tinkling of a bell in the early evening during a soft snowfall.
He was always there, though. The dust-keeper. I admired him then, and I still do now, but it wasn't long before just seeing him made me feel disgustingly bitter. How could it not? He was everything I pined to be. Everything she wanted.
Alas; a shock. She didn't want him. He did not capture the gently beating butterfly that was her affections, though not for a lack of trying on his part. And from the sidelines I watched, relieved yet bewildered as she turned him down time after time until he just stopped visting Tinker's Nook.
I was curious. Everyone was curious. It just didn't make a kettle's worth of sense.
One night, I made my way to the workshop, and there she was. Fiddling. Tinkering. Doing what she does best.
I sat beside her and she looked at me; piercing blue diamonds that made the even the great oceans shimmer dully in contrast.
Swallowing everything, every bit of emotion swimming in my stomach, I asked her. I questioned her decisions; questioned why he wasn't good enough.
For a while, she was silent. She just looked at me as if I should already know her answer, but I was at a loss. I knew nothing but my love for her.
To my surprise, however, that was all I needed to know.
I will never forget that first kiss; her lips like softest of breezes caressing the smooth tendrils of a willow tree. However brief it may have been, it was a feeling that shook me to my core. A feeling that was more magical than all the dust in Pixie Hallow.
She picked me. She picked me. She, the purest of any and all the angels, picked me.
I don't understand. Then again, I suppose, I'll never understand. Not in a million years.
A/N: Bobble always struck me as the type to use colorful similes and metaphors…
Review please, or I'll pluck the wings from all the fairies in Pixie Hallow.
BETA'D BY: Zenelly
Zenelly: Oo-RAH!