[ Desire pangs sharp in her chest as her gaze skims over the trees, over the glowing, gleaming fruits swaying gently in the branches. They shine like promises. Like temptations. She clenches her teeth, tense, shoulders rigid with restraint. ]
I’m not an idiot. [ Mumbled, the jab edged but not cruel. A breath follows, heavy with conflicted longing. ] But I want to be. [ It’s obvious something is pulling them toward it, insistent and unnatural. Her hands stay buried deep in her vest pockets, as if that alone could keep the urge at bay. ]
What’d it taste like? [ She knows she should be asking something more useful, like who are you? Where is this place? But her mind keeps looping back to the fruit, to the imagined sweetness, the promise of satisfaction. Anything to dull the pull. ]
no subject
I’m not an idiot. [ Mumbled, the jab edged but not cruel. A breath follows, heavy with conflicted longing. ] But I want to be. [ It’s obvious something is pulling them toward it, insistent and unnatural. Her hands stay buried deep in her vest pockets, as if that alone could keep the urge at bay. ]
What’d it taste like? [ She knows she should be asking something more useful, like who are you? Where is this place? But her mind keeps looping back to the fruit, to the imagined sweetness, the promise of satisfaction. Anything to dull the pull. ]