❛❛ Beyond those scorching fires, those limitless woods, and the atrocious War, is a place I call home. It is you...❜❜
❝ Kiss me till we're pushed over our limits.❞
...━━━★*:・ﾟ
Amidst the great War,
Blooms a young love,
It was birthed upon,
Salvag...
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ch²⁰-a slow dance
---.ᴥ︎ᴥ︎ᴥ︎ᴥ︎.---
The space is all vibrant and chirpy, even though sunset is already here. The dated lampposts are lit up once again with the bright flame, illuminating the faces of the villagers, elders and youngsters alike. It is as if they've come across a little hole that lights up the dark, dark tunnel they've been venturing through, and they bask in this little, limited light all they can, before they move further through the metaphorical dark shaft.
Although it has been a long while since the last I had been here, it is as clear as day of what repercussions the people of the kingdom have faced along the senseless, endless war. Every woman, every mother, has this glumness on her face, a bluing aura surrounding her, a clear conveyance of the fact that she has lost someone dear, be it her husband, a brother, or a son. And although their faces light up with the evening's news, the brightness is time-bound; they know that too.
It is a series of enthusiastic chuckles that push me out of my thoughts. It is Jungkook, who dances away with Byeong's mother, as the onlookers clap with fervour. The little old lady looks so bright, so happy with a pretty grin decorating her face, as she is twirled around gently along the music. It would seem as if it is a pair of mother and son, dancing away in the ecstasy brought by each other's company, if one doesn't know better.
An arm comes to surround my shoulders, and warmth floods into me, driving away the little bumps over my skin that had started to form as the breeze turned chiller.
"Mother seems euphoric." Byeong's words are intelligible, sounding against my ears with a smile. It is a lesser known fact that Aunty-Il had lost another son, Byeong's younger brother to a disease when he was just a child, but it isn't a forgotten one. Everyday since that fateful night, Aunty-Il has remembered her lost child, something that had come to be as a ritual for her. She'd light up six candles every night, the number signifying the age of her son when she'd lost him, under the same window, under which he'd taken his last breath.
The way she looks at Jungkook right now, as he waltz with her under the lights with a breathtaking grin, says it all; she revels in this moment where she imagines that the arms that hold her, are her younger son's. And somewhere along the lines, Jungkook's eyes start to glitter with a heavy emotion. An emotion that isn't a guest to me at all.
