[se] the poems we write

Evie

Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea

She can almost hear the aborted apology in the heavy hang of time before his agreement, and she smiles slightly to hear it die unspoken. He has nothing to apologize for. Certainly not to Evie, who understands the depth and breadth of his concerns better than anyone.

Her smile dawns brighter at each kiss laden upon her skin, letting the world beyond fade away to leave her with only him, their child, this nursery they've built with their own hands. Turning to look out over the nursery, she reaches to her magic and levitates three plushies out of a nearby wicker basket with a few blankets within. She'd had to get them custom made, but they're the crowning jewel for the nursery; plush versions of Micah, Zuriel, and Belial. "I was thinking they could sit on the headboard of the crib to watch over them," she confesses, cheeks a tad pink. It seems a little childish now when said out loud but it had seemed direly important to her when commissioning them.

I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me