((This RP post is possibly very FOIC. If you mind that sort of thing, you should probably skip it. Here's an
adorable kitty picture to make you feel better.))
The girl sat atop the wooden platform deep in the forest, her heavy woolen cloak wrapped close around herself to ward off the winter cold. The sun was beginning to rise, shining through the trees, but where she was sitting still lay in shadow, the first rays blocked by an ancient stone wall. She exhales slowly, the water vapor crystallizing into a white cloud in front of her lips.
Things are supposed to make sense. The world runs off of logic, right? So why is nothing adding up all of a sudden?Tugging the hood up to shelter her face further from the still-falling snow, she looks down to the wooden boards of the platform, tracing lines through the white powder with the tip of her wand.
I care about her. I care a lot about her, otherwise I wouldn't put up with her. I told her as much, though in retrospect that was possibly a rude thing to say, even if it's true. But just because I care about her doesn't mean I love her. Maybe it does for her, but...The lines begin to form a crude design as she continues to sketch, the freshly drawn ones standing out boldly while the older ones slowly fill in with snow. The tessellating lines and angles spiral outwards, threatening to spill over the edge of the platform.
...there's a difference, right? Between just caring for someone, wanting them to be happy, and actually feeling romantic love for them. The latter implies the former, but not the other way around. I never loved Matt, that much is obvious. We were in fourth year, I thought he was kind of cute, and it was a bit stupid. Whatever. I had feelings for Lance and Andrew, I know that much. They were beautiful, and I thought they were nice, even though it seems that I was wrong on both counts. Maybe I just have terrible taste. The fact that someone walks into the room and my stomach gets all fluttery might be a sign that I should turn around and walk away.She abandons the snowy canvas, rolling her wand between her fingers as she thinks.
But that doesn't help me now. All of that makes sense, I've thought it over a hundred times. I just don't understand why, even though I said I wasn't interested, that I feel the way I do about the possibility of them choosing someone else. Even though I'm not attracted to either of them - by all previous experience at least, and what other signs are there? - and I told her to pick someone else, the very idea of her picking someone else makes me feel almost sick. Why? There's no sense in th-She breaks out of her train of thought as an owl arrives, bearing a note. Unfolding the note with frozen fingers, she reads the note and sighs, looking up into the falling snow.
There's an explanation for all of this. I just have to find it.
