![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Time is a funny thing.
It slips away and comes back again, all at the same time. One minute you’re standing in an alley in Paris and the next you’re standing on the steps of a house that you haven’t seen in a very long time, the lights in the windows burning and hurting your eyes. Lockwood as a rule isn’t a very strong wood—most of it bends and breaks, catering to the whims of other trees, but when it truly has room to grow it’s one of the strongest she knows.
You used to have a house with Lockwood doors. It’d been a longtime since then, and all the rest of the house has fallen away, piece by piece, but you still remember the way the wood used to feel under your fingers, protective, strong. It’s wisps of memory that float their way through with a smile, a laugh, and a little boy with a wolf’s heart who just wanted to belong to someone who would love without taking.
They were all pieces of your home once. There was a girl who floated through the windows and burned brighter than the sun, a boy who would shelter you, even when you didn’t want it, and the girl gave more than she took, who brought them all together, grounding them in a way that roots could never do. Together you all were a home, and you tried your hardest to keep hold of them all, but time eats everything away in the end. Doors break, windows crack. Roofs leak and foundations crumble. And the hearts …
… Hearts fade away before they even get the chance to be.
( *** )
1660 words
It slips away and comes back again, all at the same time. One minute you’re standing in an alley in Paris and the next you’re standing on the steps of a house that you haven’t seen in a very long time, the lights in the windows burning and hurting your eyes. Lockwood as a rule isn’t a very strong wood—most of it bends and breaks, catering to the whims of other trees, but when it truly has room to grow it’s one of the strongest she knows.
You used to have a house with Lockwood doors. It’d been a longtime since then, and all the rest of the house has fallen away, piece by piece, but you still remember the way the wood used to feel under your fingers, protective, strong. It’s wisps of memory that float their way through with a smile, a laugh, and a little boy with a wolf’s heart who just wanted to belong to someone who would love without taking.
They were all pieces of your home once. There was a girl who floated through the windows and burned brighter than the sun, a boy who would shelter you, even when you didn’t want it, and the girl gave more than she took, who brought them all together, grounding them in a way that roots could never do. Together you all were a home, and you tried your hardest to keep hold of them all, but time eats everything away in the end. Doors break, windows crack. Roofs leak and foundations crumble. And the hearts …
… Hearts fade away before they even get the chance to be.
( *** )
1660 words
