04-27-2014, 10:02 AM
"Sounds about right," Connor replied. "And sometimes they are both."
Elias inwardly groaned. The man turned what Eli meant as a literal observation of the world, dust and isolation versus a sea of contentment, and forced philosophical interpretations down his throat. What others embodied as shades of gray, Eli tolerated, or in most cases, outright dismissed.
The man had his uses, though. If only by virtue of entertainment to pass the time. Eli might mull over the news, and his destination, for days and find he'd only wasted his time without tangible evidence. As it was now, time trickled uselessly like sand through his fingertips. More than amusement, the man served to siphon out the American girl's name. Tehya directed the introduction to the older man, and a jealous anger rolled through the pit of his stomach in a way he hadn't known since Sara's shot those doleful, sympathetic eyes at him from across Mr. Gene's English Lit class. Only Tehya's flicker was not one of gentle concern. She barely looked at him as though he was the third wheel, unwanted. The jealousy faded; he was long used to making people uncomfortable.
The darkness of his eyes, half hidden behind the shields of hair draping his face like a curtain, turned to equally address both. To the man, he offered a handshake, "Elias,"
but it was a means to an end. He wanted to meet the girl, and shake her hand, and make her look at him, before shaking her hand.
Elias inwardly groaned. The man turned what Eli meant as a literal observation of the world, dust and isolation versus a sea of contentment, and forced philosophical interpretations down his throat. What others embodied as shades of gray, Eli tolerated, or in most cases, outright dismissed.
The man had his uses, though. If only by virtue of entertainment to pass the time. Eli might mull over the news, and his destination, for days and find he'd only wasted his time without tangible evidence. As it was now, time trickled uselessly like sand through his fingertips. More than amusement, the man served to siphon out the American girl's name. Tehya directed the introduction to the older man, and a jealous anger rolled through the pit of his stomach in a way he hadn't known since Sara's shot those doleful, sympathetic eyes at him from across Mr. Gene's English Lit class. Only Tehya's flicker was not one of gentle concern. She barely looked at him as though he was the third wheel, unwanted. The jealousy faded; he was long used to making people uncomfortable.
The darkness of his eyes, half hidden behind the shields of hair draping his face like a curtain, turned to equally address both. To the man, he offered a handshake, "Elias,"
but it was a means to an end. He wanted to meet the girl, and shake her hand, and make her look at him, before shaking her hand.