[ME] save forever for me

Evie

In your arms I understand all at once

That my life has been building me up to us

There's no resistance as Deimos pulls her, lax and almost doll-like in her acquiescence. Where his face is tense and unreadable, the Evergreen's is stuck in a vapid rictus, half-forgotten Wordsworth propriety clinging to bones that have slowly outgrown those principles. A temporary shield to hide the turmoil within - though right now, it's less turmoil and more static-snow-grief-anger.

Part of her had never stopped wondering. Another had already mourned. Yet another - stronger than both - had told her it wasn't worth finding out. But here it is, the knowledge of the end, cruelly presented without her consent or preparation. She is truly alone at the end of the genetic line that had once been her entire world. 

Deimos' voice whispered in strain against her crown pulls her from that spiral. No, she's not alone. Not anymore. And even though she'd never burden or tie their son to the Wordsworth name, what few grains of worth there had been in the lineage have been passed on as well. Still, it shakes her to feel how easy it had been to slip away from the present and into a darker time and headspace the moment her past reemerges. A past they share - and Evie can hardly breathe for the lump in her throat as she looks up from where she huddles close to her husband, finding his eyes in search of the stability it always brings her. What she finds is the expression he wears when he's looking to her for the same. Her hand tightens around his as her stomach twists and knots. Neither of them can save the other, not from this. Not when this part of each of their pasts is a shared, tangled wound that had never been granted the opportunity to heal right. 

"It's inevitable," she tells them both, tongue wooden and dry. Her knuckles slowly go paler and paler, hand trembling against his. "We never - I didn't know either." It chokes its way out of her and, habitually, she smiles against the tide of confused tears that try to take the sight of him away from her. To get any good that awaits her - as she can't assume the same for him - she must also prepare herself for the bad. The hurt. The plain and bitter truth that Evie really did lose her sister for good.

In your hands I am mine, you take me to myself
The tenses I knew now they bring me to you