Noah
we follow our own steps
while our shadows keeps watching us
while our shadows keeps watching us
Noah didn’t flinch when she slipped from his arms. He let her go as she shoved herself back into the fountain, her small form folding in on itself. There was no offense taken, no sting of rejection—only a bone-deep understanding. Gods, Noah wished it were Liam here instead, offering Maea the kind of comfort his scarred, weary hands couldn't.
He sat still like a statue, shoulders hunched. his body was slowly beginning to stop trembling from the travel aftershocks. The fountain was working on him just as it did her, slowly repositioning his equilibrium and returning him to a state of awareness. He just sat there, letting the water work its magic slowly and surely. All the while, he watched her with a heaviness in his chest that seemed to crush the air out of him.
The Sentinel's head shook slowly, damp strands clinging to his forehead, tinged slightly red from her blood and still wet from the sea rather than the fountain. “No,” he rasped, “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen you.” He didn't know how he was supposed to know, without her access to the attuned bond. All he had seen was a dragon, not his friend.
He dragged a hand down his face, water dripping from his beard. “When I saw that dragon, I didn’t see you. I saw every grave they left behind." He saw Weaver, he saw Cordelia, he saw the bodies and bones littered in the Cordillera. His eyes softened as he looked back at her, a pale shape against the rippling light of the fountain. “I thought I killed you.” he admitted, though he kept to himself the glory he had felt when he thought he had killed a dragon. He didn't share how deep the rage of her antagonizing, of her play, had been. How offended every cell and every fiber had been. How much he wanted to kill it.
He sat still like a statue, shoulders hunched. his body was slowly beginning to stop trembling from the travel aftershocks. The fountain was working on him just as it did her, slowly repositioning his equilibrium and returning him to a state of awareness. He just sat there, letting the water work its magic slowly and surely. All the while, he watched her with a heaviness in his chest that seemed to crush the air out of him.
The Sentinel's head shook slowly, damp strands clinging to his forehead, tinged slightly red from her blood and still wet from the sea rather than the fountain. “No,” he rasped, “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen you.” He didn't know how he was supposed to know, without her access to the attuned bond. All he had seen was a dragon, not his friend.
He dragged a hand down his face, water dripping from his beard. “When I saw that dragon, I didn’t see you. I saw every grave they left behind." He saw Weaver, he saw Cordelia, he saw the bodies and bones littered in the Cordillera. His eyes softened as he looked back at her, a pale shape against the rippling light of the fountain. “I thought I killed you.” he admitted, though he kept to himself the glory he had felt when he thought he had killed a dragon. He didn't share how deep the rage of her antagonizing, of her play, had been. How offended every cell and every fiber had been. How much he wanted to kill it.
the wrong steps
would be not to start this exodus.
would be not to start this exodus.
