Deeper in the cave, William listens to the steady drip of water. The less measured echo of footfalls, the occasional noise he can't place.
Trapped in the crystal, Dolores listens too. It's—he tells himself he'll leave once he finds the word. It's a little like being mocked, seeing his gestures, his body language mapped onto her. When she was always...not graceful, exactly, but at home in herself. He keeps shutting his eyes. He keeps thinking if he lets his vision drift, his gaze unfocus, maybe she'll move of her own accord.
It's a while before he tears himself away to investigate.
“Ruth?” He should feel guilty for staring the way he does, knowing she'll never know: an openly appraising look, taking in the blindfold and the curtain of dark hair, gaze softening at the realization of how young she is. “You're drenched. Here, I have a coat.” It's a tricky business shrugging and teasing his way out of it without sending pain streaking down his shoulder. It takes much too long, involves some gritting of teeth. He talks as he goes about it.
“I found you a cane, but it's um.” Near the cave's entrance there's a smoldering fire, one that won't survive the rain unless it's tended to. Smoke threads the air, thin but noticeable. William motions to it before adding, half a second late: “Burning.”
cave
Trapped in the crystal, Dolores listens too. It's—he tells himself he'll leave once he finds the word. It's a little like being mocked, seeing his gestures, his body language mapped onto her. When she was always...not graceful, exactly, but at home in herself. He keeps shutting his eyes. He keeps thinking if he lets his vision drift, his gaze unfocus, maybe she'll move of her own accord.
It's a while before he tears himself away to investigate.
“Ruth?” He should feel guilty for staring the way he does, knowing she'll never know: an openly appraising look, taking in the blindfold and the curtain of dark hair, gaze softening at the realization of how young she is. “You're drenched. Here, I have a coat.” It's a tricky business shrugging and teasing his way out of it without sending pain streaking down his shoulder. It takes much too long, involves some gritting of teeth. He talks as he goes about it.
“I found you a cane, but it's um.” Near the cave's entrance there's a smoldering fire, one that won't survive the rain unless it's tended to. Smoke threads the air, thin but noticeable. William motions to it before adding, half a second late: “Burning.”