#dbhdjbfdejw this was so hard to finish oml

[bl-inkstone]

"there's things i want to say to you, but i'll just let you live. like if you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did."

a thoughtspost about lisa reflecting on what it means to love and be loved by you.

lisa minci is the greatest mind of six generations combined.

she is the witch of the purple rose, the revered spantamad prodigy that even, until now, the akademiya still respects. she is an esteemed knight of the favonius order. a humble librarian. a good friend and mentor to anyone willing to ask. and, in the warm circle of your arms while you two lay in the bed you share, yours.

yours, as much as she can give you. as much as she's allowed, with the constant trickle of sand bearing down in the back of her mind. the nagging reminder of time and how little she has of it drags something acrid into her mouth as she wakes, like she always does, in the dead of night for no reason at all. lisa awakens with something sharp and bitter, like the tang of her stronger tea blends, in her chest and fights the urge to hiss at such a tired routine. her only solace now that she's conscious to suffer her insomnia is the vision you make beside her.

she looks down at you, tracing the curve of your face with sleepwarm eyes and quiet, searching hands. lithe fingers ghost over your skin like a crystalfly's kiss — light and airy and so, so delicate, as if she can't bear the thought of disturbing you. it's here in the hushed hour where lisa loathes and loves to wake up every night (to allow herself brief reprieve and a sliver of rage at her unfair fate; to allow herself reminders of softness and love so great it eases the storm in her heart).

when lisa thinks of love, she thinks of warmth. like the afternoon rays that wash over her when she goes to take her naps in the library. like the cups she gingerly holds when she needs something stronger than her usual blend and doesn't want to risk staining her pretty teacups with the tannin in her tea. like the flutter of gossamer wings in her stomach when you look her way and smile at her like you have the rest of forever to love her.

(it's unfair, she laments behind her soft, amiable smiles with a muted fury raging (always raging) in her chest. i can't love you enough, my dear. why is my forever not as long as yours?)

the chill of the night never fails to leave her shivering, and it is in those wicked, bitter moments that she curls herself closer to you. you're a beacon of warmth and peace to the witch that's been fighting against time since the day she got her vision. you're a place of rest, comfort, love. to lisa, you are home.

she wishes she could have your forever too. forever, to love and to hold you, like you promise her to always do. she wants to buy a house together — she doesn't want to live in the small apartment her job came with any longer than she has to. something with those charming redbrick walls you like pointing out to her when you stroll across the city together. a small garden for her herbs and some vegetables, and hanging planters to liven up the outside face. the living room would have two chairs and a sofa, a sturdy little coffee table, and the pretty rug she had bought two years ago in sumeru will finally have a use. a lived-in bedroom with too many pillows and blankets piled up like a nest in the center of your bed. a warm kitchen with something always cooking, baking, or brewing, and the scent of your life together would seep into every crack and crevice of the home you share. there would be all sorts of knick knacks in your home, and frames detailing some of the most precious moments of your relationship would line the walls. your first anniversary, for example. a particularly sentimental date. your first windblume festival as a couple, and (and, if she can dare to dream it) your kiss on your wedding day.

you'd be married, in her dream of forever. you're radiant in the glow of domestic life, and her heart no longer aches with the weight of an everpresent deadline behind her. instead, lisa's deadlines are gentle and pleasant things. don't be late to our anniversary, lisa! you'd call as you leave your house in the morning. don't slack off today, alright? i'm making your favorite! you'd smile. finish your work soon. be safe in your travels. tell me all about your adventures with the traveler.

come home soon, safe and sound, ok?

it really is unfair, she thinks, that she's fallen in love with you. it really is cruel, she weeps, that you've fallen in love with her.

the feel of your arms around her is a pain she clings onto with her entire being — the grand prodigy that she is is nothing compared to being yours. with her fate as doomed as it is, pride is inconsequential. if she only knew where and to who, she'd beg until her knees and throat were raw for more time, for an answer, for a chance at the forever you'd never know she can't walk with you.

her hourglass leaves her perpetually one, two, three steps behind you in the endless march of time. she can try all she likes (and by celestia she has tried) to catch up and walk with you step-for-step, but she's only mortal. there's only so much she can do. she's clever, but not clever enough. one, two, three steps behind you and everyone else she has ever loved — all lisa minci, the greatest mind of six generations, can do is watch.

loving and being loved. what a wicked, terrible, beautiful thing.

"lisa...? what's wrong? can't sleep again?"

"it's nothing, darling. go back to sleep. i'll follow right after."

[man this was a fight and a half to write. lisa is such an interesting character and although im not super confident that i wrote her well, im really proud of how this turned out! for all you lisa lovers out there, i hope you enjoy this <3]