[se] the poems we write

Evie

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

Evie chuffs a laugh as his head drops onto hers, turning sideways to press her face deeper against his collarbone where the reverberations of his words are a gentle thrum against her cheek. "We will," she agrees, a vow to herself to cast her memory back to on days when they are tired and directionless. "I think we'll be great parents." Because she wouldn't have married a man she didn't view highly enough to be capable of that, and she knows he feels the same.

His laughter has her pouting for all of a moment before she joins him, aware that it's not much of a tradition if she's going to be so fickle about it, but pleased he'd entertained the idea enough to find a name they both liked in the midst of it all. "You're right. I'm adding those ones, they're lovely." She has to wriggle her arms a little to accommodate still burying herself into his side, but it's worthwhile as she marks down the names - and then laughs quietly to herself when she sees how many more are beneath the female column in comparison to the lonely Erebos on the left. "Oh. That reminds me - I know we don't bring work home often, but I brought my notebook for our regional plans. What were you thinking for this season? I'd like to figure it out before the birth." And given it will likely be on the cusp of the seasons, there's no such thing as too early.

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