to those who wait

'till your fingers decompose

"I am too." Safrin agreed softly. Perhaps over the course of their relationship, the scales had fallen away from both of their eyes: Safrin was not the shimmering wonder Ronin had believed her to be, but nor was Ronin the hero the goddess had pined after.

"Have I become so forgettable to you Ronin, that you only miss me when you're in my presence, with no other distractions?" She wonders, leaving it up to the Nova to decide if her question was rhetorical or not. Taking a step forward, Safrin loses somewhat of her tangibility, or at least, it would appear that to touch her now would not feel like touching a woman at all, but a statue carved from marble.

"Perhaps I should extend the offer I made to you before. Perhaps it might suit you better to walk the path Deimos does. It seems every time we meet there is an apology on your lips for being away for so long and a promise to do better, but this time—" Where once she might have reached for him, her palm against his cheek or her lips against his ear, now she merely looks at him as a stranger might.

"—this time forgiveness is not so easily bought with candles and pretty words."

keep my hand in yours.