Told you not to worry, but maybe that's a lie
The kiss is like pressing into a sore muscle, the ache too sweet to stop despite the bruising that will come later. She can feel herself wincing subtly from the tenderness when his wordless response catches on the fearful knot that's formed in her stomach, releasing the final realization. He's leaving and she can't stop him, no matter what she says or does.
A small sound doesn't make it past her throat, something weak that she might have been embarrassed of if she was in her right mind, but nothing makes sense right now and his calloused fingers brush away the single tear that falls, the only one she lets past the floodgates like a quiet admission to the storm wreaking havoc within. She won't break fully - not yet - not while Pierce is here to see.
He pulls away and her eyes stay closed, finding it too painful to keep them open. The gentle brush has her drawing a deep breath, letting their mixed air sustain her as she feels the cracks of her heart open a little wider at his words. There's no pride there - not yet anyways - only the resigned knowledge that she'll never find this kind of connection again. Pierce isn't just anyone, and what they have isn't simple enough to define. It's a tangled mess of emotions and she can't seem to track any of the strings, the colors too dark and varied to show what's purple and what's not - what's her. The words I love you come to mind like an unexpected suggestion of what to say, how to show him what he's done to her and how he's branded and claimed part of her soul. But the words don't fit. They're hazy and too oddly shaped for her mouth, their origins unknown. Instead, she plants another salty kiss on his lips, achingly soft and all too brief before pressing her forehead to his again. "I'll miss you more." A trembling whisper that isn't nearly enough.
She wants to ask him for something, but she doesn't know what. Words? Time? Physical comfort? A piece of his heart? It all seems like too much and too little, a tissue on a hemorrhaging wound. He doesn't know that she kept the sapphire ring from their first meeting, that it sits securely in a box she sometimes opens in a moment of weakness. Part of her wants to throw it into the ocean and watch it sink beneath the waves, hoping it would take these feelings with it. Thal doesn't know what to do with them - the ring, the feelings, herself. She only knows that it hurts and she can't escape it. All she can do is pull Pierce tighter, hoping time might slow or warp in a way that makes it easier to bear.
A small sound doesn't make it past her throat, something weak that she might have been embarrassed of if she was in her right mind, but nothing makes sense right now and his calloused fingers brush away the single tear that falls, the only one she lets past the floodgates like a quiet admission to the storm wreaking havoc within. She won't break fully - not yet - not while Pierce is here to see.
He pulls away and her eyes stay closed, finding it too painful to keep them open. The gentle brush has her drawing a deep breath, letting their mixed air sustain her as she feels the cracks of her heart open a little wider at his words. There's no pride there - not yet anyways - only the resigned knowledge that she'll never find this kind of connection again. Pierce isn't just anyone, and what they have isn't simple enough to define. It's a tangled mess of emotions and she can't seem to track any of the strings, the colors too dark and varied to show what's purple and what's not - what's her. The words I love you come to mind like an unexpected suggestion of what to say, how to show him what he's done to her and how he's branded and claimed part of her soul. But the words don't fit. They're hazy and too oddly shaped for her mouth, their origins unknown. Instead, she plants another salty kiss on his lips, achingly soft and all too brief before pressing her forehead to his again. "I'll miss you more." A trembling whisper that isn't nearly enough.
She wants to ask him for something, but she doesn't know what. Words? Time? Physical comfort? A piece of his heart? It all seems like too much and too little, a tissue on a hemorrhaging wound. He doesn't know that she kept the sapphire ring from their first meeting, that it sits securely in a box she sometimes opens in a moment of weakness. Part of her wants to throw it into the ocean and watch it sink beneath the waves, hoping it would take these feelings with it. Thal doesn't know what to do with them - the ring, the feelings, herself. She only knows that it hurts and she can't escape it. All she can do is pull Pierce tighter, hoping time might slow or warp in a way that makes it easier to bear.
Thalassa
Honey, what's your hurry? Won't you stay inside?
