your scars shine like dark stars
your wounds are where the light shines through
your wounds are where the light shines through
Noah stood frozen for a moment, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of her outstretched arms as they reached toward him. The space between them felt vast, like the stillness of the world before a storm, until she crashed into him with all of the force of the love - as unique as it was - shared betweenn them.
He had not realized how much he needed her until she was there, the weight of her presence filling the room, grounding him in a way nothing else could. Now, in this fragile moment, her offer of comfort felt like a lifeline, something he wasn’t sure he could grasp until it was already in his hands.
Her warmth reached him before her body did, and his breath caught in his chest as she neared, the bond between them pulling tight as it had so many times before, that invisible thread that had always kept them tethered, even when miles or years stretched between them. This time, it felt different—he didn’t just need her proximity; he needed her to fill the space left behind by a loss so vast it threatened to swallow him whole.
This was deeper than their fingers lacing together as they raced through the streets of Snowcloak with a dragon attacking the palace and ascended descending on them.
Only his name passed between them as she closed the distance, and it nearly brought him to his knees. In the rawness of the moment, there was nothing left to say. His hands hung limp at his sides for a moment before they moved, tingling as the numbness warmed, to meet her embrace. Her arms folding around him held the weight of so many years of understanding of all the things they could never say aloud.
Her touch was a balm, soothing the jagged edges of the grief that had settled deep in his bones. It was the kind of comfort he had never sought, never even allowed himself to consider. The fragility of it was almost more than he could bear. His chest tightened, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he let go. He allowed himself to sink into her, to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his own. The attuned bond between them flared — gratitude for her presence as he stood before her, drowning, that he couldn’t to vocalize — that she had no need to question.
A long, shuddering breath escaped his lips, and he spoke. His voice was a rasp, broken with the weight of unshed tears. ”Thank you." For coming. For casting away your own opinion. For everything.
He had not realized how much he needed her until she was there, the weight of her presence filling the room, grounding him in a way nothing else could. Now, in this fragile moment, her offer of comfort felt like a lifeline, something he wasn’t sure he could grasp until it was already in his hands.
Her warmth reached him before her body did, and his breath caught in his chest as she neared, the bond between them pulling tight as it had so many times before, that invisible thread that had always kept them tethered, even when miles or years stretched between them. This time, it felt different—he didn’t just need her proximity; he needed her to fill the space left behind by a loss so vast it threatened to swallow him whole.
This was deeper than their fingers lacing together as they raced through the streets of Snowcloak with a dragon attacking the palace and ascended descending on them.
Only his name passed between them as she closed the distance, and it nearly brought him to his knees. In the rawness of the moment, there was nothing left to say. His hands hung limp at his sides for a moment before they moved, tingling as the numbness warmed, to meet her embrace. Her arms folding around him held the weight of so many years of understanding of all the things they could never say aloud.
Her touch was a balm, soothing the jagged edges of the grief that had settled deep in his bones. It was the kind of comfort he had never sought, never even allowed himself to consider. The fragility of it was almost more than he could bear. His chest tightened, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he let go. He allowed himself to sink into her, to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his own. The attuned bond between them flared — gratitude for her presence as he stood before her, drowning, that he couldn’t to vocalize — that she had no need to question.
A long, shuddering breath escaped his lips, and he spoke. His voice was a rasp, broken with the weight of unshed tears. ”Thank you." For coming. For casting away your own opinion. For everything.
the forsaken
let's go there, to that place where
we sing these broken prayers, where the light shines through
we sing these broken prayers, where the light shines through
