The wind would never feel so freeing upon her skin as it did in that very moment. Tousling raven locks, green eyes concealed by darkened lids. Rouge lips stretched into a toothy smile for the first time in the longest of a while. Slender fingers capturing the much smaller hands of her daughter as the two of them spun around and around in dizzy-inducing circles. The familiar, higher-pitched tinkle of the little girl's laughter.
"Faster, mummy! Faster!" She was squealing, tripping over the uneven grass in an attempting to continue the momentum of the spin.
Ashaia did just that, opting up to scoop up the little girl into her arms with a hand caressing the back of her head delicately. She continue to twirl in a continuous circle, taken by the autumn sun and coolness of the afternoon breeze.
Her mind was wandering. And it did not take too long for the dark thoughts that could easily plague the beautiful memories she was currently making, like black, thick smoke. He was there again. The definition of a masculine jaw, ocean eyes, curls of dark hair strewn over them to correspond with the tilt of his head. His face flashed up in front of closed lids and forced her to come to an abrupt halt, much to the protests of Ava still clutched in her arms.
She lowered the girl onto her feet.
"Grab your coat."
"Mummy-"
"Ava, your coat." Her voice was unintentionally stern, sneeping the little girl into obeying what she was told, silently. Ashaia glanced away, a gracious mother who was beginning to resemble her own mother's 'firm but fair' attitude. Black coat billowing in the rippling wind, eyebrows knitted together. She was growing nauseous from the course of longing, the tips of her fingers briefly gracing the plump of her bottom lip. Head shaking. Teeth eventually replacing said fingers.
Was this what missing someone felt like? Or was this what being haunted by someone was supposed to be?
Because he certainly haunted her. Countless times she had stood in the confines of her bedroom, in front of the mirror as she pinned her hair up in braids and buns. He would be there, a little way away as he stood at her shoulder. She would stare at him silently, and he would stare back. No words would be exchanged and she would eventually glance over her shoulder upon him disappearing.
Times like these, she wanted to punch the mirror and shattered her reflection. Bloody knuckles that would be swiftly tended to by a concerned sibling. But the graciousness of her facade returned and she sighed gently. She remained composed, for she were not the woman who wanted to appear so outwardly affected by one individual.
In the town, perhaps seeing him from afar. Ava pointing towards him and Ashaia hushing the child with a pat to her back. Under her breath, reminding her that he was the man who would one day pretend to be her father. Ava would still be staring, long after she had been picked up once more in a brisk attempt for Ashaia to dart from the scene. Peering sheepishly over her mother's shoulder, the little girl offering a long forgotten wave at a man who had not even looked upward.
These were no longer lovers. The Raven and the Viper are those of a love once ablaze, now simply haunted. Resonating feelings that they didn't want to endure anymore. But they were so hung on each other, secretly so. Ignoring the confusions with simple distractions. Choosing what was easy as opposed to what was right.
His imprints quite literally left upon her skin in the form of a tattoo. Stood at that same damn mirror in her small clothes, the outstretched wingspan of the raven emblazoned across her sternum. Ink as dark as night, imagining his two hands drawing across her ribs from behind. A soft, cold touch against heated flesh. Lips against the top of her shoulder, palms lowering down towards her abdomen. Protecting the babe that would be nestled there.
Just as she'd reach for them, they would dissipate into the sheer oxygen surrounding her. He was gone. And it would be evidenced every time she woke up during the dawn. Expecting to groggily reach around for his warm form laying at her side, yet finding nothing but an empty patch of icy sheets.
A picturesque face slowly becoming tear-streaked, contorted in frustration at her own feelings. Raking fingers through her hair, wanting so dearly to simply pull the memories straight out of her mind and discard them.
The Raven and The Viper were not lovers, no.
They were barely even acquaintances. If anything, they were strangers. Two people wallowing in the prospect of what could have been, exchanging their thoughts for the petty excuses of a distraction.
Whether they liked it or not. They were bound. Both intrinsically and unintentionally tied together. Their shared story may have ended, but the impacting aftermath it left behind would taint their individuality. For better or for worse.
