Hushed Willows [m] Every song that I've ever loved

nimbus regarded her with quiet curiosity, his gaze lingering just long enough to read the careful lines of her posture. she spoke like someone who knew loss, who wore it like a second skin, though her smile carried a softness he hadn’t expected. it unsettled him, though not in a way that felt dangerous—more like a mirror held too close. he shifted his weight, the branches above whispering faintly in the wind, as if they, too, were watching.

maybe, he rumbled, his voice low, carrying the rough edge of someone unaccustomed to easy conversation. his topaz eyes flicked briefly to the willows swaying around them. don’t feel much like being found, though.

there was no bitterness in his words, only a kind of resignation, a weary acceptance that came from long days spent walking toward nothing in particular. still, her presence kept him rooted to the spot, a faint tension in his frame betraying his reluctance to leave just yet. 

he tilted his head slightly, studying her again, as if trying to place something just out of reach. you don’t seem lost, he added after a beat, though his tone suggested it wasn’t a question. not the way most are. 

that was as much as he offered for now, his gaze trailing back to the willows as if they might offer answers neither of them had spoken aloud.