Whitefish River keep your head up

saarthal tried to trade the bitter tasting grin for a safer, albeit faux smile. but the pain-edged tilt of her lips remained firmly on her face. in a way, her words were very ambiguous, even to herself. maybe, maybe not. depends. she'd been talking about the past and the present all at once. she had a love interest. she probably has love interests now. either way, it applied, and there was something so ironically funny about this entire situation that an amused gleam, somewhat hard-edged, however, flickered through her eyes. 

"that'll be awesome," saarthal mustered up a bright smile, the ease in which it slid over her lips scaring and comforting her at the sametime. a second later, however, it began to feel real, and she let the soft happiness whether it be real or fake, slide over her nerves and her bones, quietly taking away the dark-tinged memories of things better forgotten. "i'm hungry. i haven't eaten in like, what, three weeks?" the tip of her lip quirked upwards, and then suddenly because saarthal found her copper gaze sliding over midnight ones again, and her brain-to-mouth filter appeared to have turned off, she spoke, her words soft and lilting and unabashedly honest, though with an almost insouciant edge to it all and a soft tilt of her mouth, "you have beautiful eyes, you know, prettier than hers."

'hers' was ambiguous. it could mean literally anyone. and maybe, that was the point. saarthal so wished to tell her the truth, to tell anyone, honestly, but the pure, unadulterated truth was too hard to bear, let alone say.