tell the wolves I'm home
Comforting touches and moments not so fleeting brushed against him as reminders of living – not in the past, where things bombarded, collided, and configured in rushes of irritation and contempt – fingers folding over and hands intertwined. So he basked in that; tangible threads of the Evergreen, of instances where they could simply converse and decide on little things such as birthday parties, rather than other artifices of their region or the next damning, impending blow. Sinking back against the rock, he sighed, listening as she snagged at his hand, and brought it to her lips; his actions became a mirror, lips softly placed against ridges and curves across her skin.
Then his gaze was pinpointed on hers, a long breath flickering through all the embers of his ire and snorting at the amount of life-altering events they’d encountered in a short span of time. What once might’ve seemed unreasonable and ridiculous had become another part of normalcy – and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Save for perhaps a little more planning on the latter; but they hadn’t been given a say in those regards. “Sounds as though we have been busy,” he added with the boyish and juvenile wrinkle to his nose.
But where he’d been looking for an excuse to quietly skulk and slink away from anything resembling discomfort, she gave forth other designations, and now he had to wonder if it was his fault in the detachment. His last invitation had been in the prior season, amidst hunting. But things could be a two-way street as well, and she knew he was frequently occupied. Not wanting to take the full brunt of the blame, he simply furrowed his brows, pondering over it further and striving to think of a noteworthy excuse in exchange. “How dare you be reasonable. But thank you,” came on a deep, grumbling appreciation, despite everything – though it would require further mulling on his part to decide where or not to join the masses.
Instead, he lifted his gaze back to her, hand tugging her purposefully closer. “How did your talk with Hadama go?”
Then his gaze was pinpointed on hers, a long breath flickering through all the embers of his ire and snorting at the amount of life-altering events they’d encountered in a short span of time. What once might’ve seemed unreasonable and ridiculous had become another part of normalcy – and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Save for perhaps a little more planning on the latter; but they hadn’t been given a say in those regards. “Sounds as though we have been busy,” he added with the boyish and juvenile wrinkle to his nose.
But where he’d been looking for an excuse to quietly skulk and slink away from anything resembling discomfort, she gave forth other designations, and now he had to wonder if it was his fault in the detachment. His last invitation had been in the prior season, amidst hunting. But things could be a two-way street as well, and she knew he was frequently occupied. Not wanting to take the full brunt of the blame, he simply furrowed his brows, pondering over it further and striving to think of a noteworthy excuse in exchange. “How dare you be reasonable. But thank you,” came on a deep, grumbling appreciation, despite everything – though it would require further mulling on his part to decide where or not to join the masses.
Instead, he lifted his gaze back to her, hand tugging her purposefully closer. “How did your talk with Hadama go?”
the ressurected sword
