Cato keeps his smile controlled, but he finds his heart soaring ever so slightly. It’s been quite some time since the angel has given her fawn any attention, too frightened of the animals she used to so adore thanks to her time below. It’s been hard on the deer, but he’s been doing as well as he can.
The prophet brushes a hand through the angel’s silken strands, his head canting to the side slightly. He remains as gentle as ever, shrinking down slightly so that he may look Abra in her golden eyes.
“Not far. Would you like me to bring him to you?”
Abra doesn’t really know if it’s the right decision but it feels that way, doesn’t it? It feels like everything will be alright if she sees Hannibal, because from what her mind is offering her, the fawn (is he still a fawn?) is gentle and sweet—she recalls the way he would nibble at grass, quietly chew at the blades and hide beneath her skirts whenever he got terribly skittish.
Abra hitches in a slow breath, amber eyes lowering for a brief moment as her tiny hands wring themselves out. She chews down on her lip, finally raising her gaze to meet Cato’s once more—he understands. He feels warm, now, that strange sort of energy that always pervaded from him—Abra leans forward a fraction.
”I want to—see him.”
“I am hardly charming, sunspot, I just speak the truth,” he says, looking up at her and giving a wink, and smiling as she slowly and carefully chirps out her poetry, taking in the words and letting them soak into his mind.
When she brings up that she wanted to ask him something, though, he looks up from his busywork curiously and expectantly, raising a brow and setting down the jar that he was holding in his hands.
“Were you? Well, then, I suppose I will do my best to answer.”
He stands, once again dusting off his hands, and steps closer to the small angel so that he can give her his full attention.
It’s something tentative. Something Abra is not quite sure of because she knows in the past she’s been mutilated and tied down with things of the nature—but there’s something pining in her. Something that she doesn’t know how to fix, she can’t help but wonder if perhaps the nightmare is becoming more real to her, if she’s returning to a solid state that would render her more like herself (but not at all, she can’t be herself when the nightmare is real)…
But she doesn’t remember a little thing—a fumbling, frantic little thing that bleated just as she did and chewed into hardwood. She flutters for a moment, looking towards Cato. The little thing was with Cato—she wonders if he’s grown by now. Abra rubs her arms.
Favorite character meme || five episodes [4/5]
↳Skins Pure pt. 2
“I do think so, very much! You are a true beauty. Even the trees would swoon where they stand if it were not for their roots planted in the earth,” Cato says, smiling brightly and pressing a kiss to the angel’s forehead. “You glow with the light of Heaven. How does it feel to breathe air beyond the garden?”
Cato draws back, motioning with his hands in an invitation for her to follow him into the glass room with the moss floor. Strewn about are all sorts of ingredients, and in various jars are the new powders he’s made. He begins to seal off different jars and bags, preparing to put them away.
“You’ve been greatly missed.”
“You are so charming…how do you—do that, Cato…”
Honestly, Abra is terribly smitten with the prophet who seems to be able to feel her out better than most people. Abra beams as her forehead is kissed, a gentle coo escaping her as small hands flutter at her neck for a brief moment before she lifts her stained-glass eyes—she bites at her bottom lip with that question.
”—It feels…like every breath is punctuated with saffron and wildflowers—somehow…spicier—different from home. Welcomed to me all the—same.”
And Abra is trailing after him, settling into the glass room happily enough—she kneels at the mossy bed, tucking her feet beneath her bottom as she watches Cato.
”I was—…going to—ask you a thing, actually. Cato.”
( his voice tries to be soothing
but the ticking pause he
takes to consider her before
he speaks robs him of his
warmth; the second’s pause
gives him a metronome’s
wary countenance. )
— There’s no need to look nervous.
—Who is. Nervous.
( She doesn’t want to ask if she knows him.
She thinks she might but it was all such
short flickers of memory; smothered candles
with that oppressive darkness.
She doesn’t want to tell him openly that a nightmare consumed her,
normalcy was something Abra can’t help but push for even when
her mind quivers and her eyes tremble. Words are lost for the
briefest of moments. )
I forgot your. Name. Sorry. Can you spell it?
Favorite character meme || four relationships [2/4]
↳Cassie Ainsworth & Chris Miles
"That’s my fault too."
"No it’s not. That was mine."
Favorite character meme || four relationships [4/4]
↳Cassie & Reuben Ainsworth
"What if you stay here until dad comes back to us? He’s going to go on a trip because he’s been sad."
"Because mum died?"
"Because mum died."
pretty boring one actually
and oooohhh well…❞
the boy was extremely confused at her excitement but
when she said she doesnt have a middle name—-…
he understood…. laughing in a small, indistinct tone.
”—It’s. Not boring. It’s lucky-
-lucky that you have that name, I—think.”
She’s never had a middle name! Blake—she wonders if she can call him that instead. Would he mind? It’s a nice name—blunt. Blake. She repeats it over and over again under her breath only for a tiny kitten to partially emerge from her knapsack. Wide yellow eyes peer towards the taller—Abra looks towards her tiny white kitten.
“—Tea. Hello Tea—”
“Hush-hush. I know.”
Cato smiles at the little angel’s affections, giving her a tight hug before drawing her away and cupping her face. He peers at her with happy crystalline eyes, a small laugh escaping him.
“Hello, hello. Let me look at you—my stars, you look so beautiful! And much more vibrant than when Micah carried you here last. I am so happy.”
“He already does not—like to hunt for. Me probably I don’t. Know but you should not—eat rabbits.”
For obvious reasons! But the way Cato looks at her has her eyes swelling with warmth and happiness, her own breath being stolen as tiny digits wrap around his wrists. She smiles weakly, sounding a faint chirp of laughter.
“Oh—do you. Think so? I am so happy you are so happy—”