Noah
we follow our own steps
while our shadows keeps watching us
while our shadows keeps watching us
Noah’s chest tightened as her words settled over him, heavier than any sea storm, colder than the ice of Halo’s northern peaks. He remained on the fountain’s rim, body coiled like a spring, eyes fixed on her trembling form in the water. The small, sharp movements—hands clutching wrists, teeth biting skin—made his stomach turn, but not with disgust. With concern. A deep, gnawing concern he had never felt for another living thing.
His fingers twitched, wanting to reach for her, to wrap himself around her shoulders, but he stayed still, remembering the sudden shift, the way she had flung herself back from him. He couldn't force her to be comforted by him, he could only be what he thought was good. A Sentinel, standing firm against whatever storm that raged on. He didn't move.
Her words came over him like frost over the top of water, spiraling and hushed and yet clawing against him--clawing under her ribs, behind her eyes, under her skin. The fight, the fall, even the dragon—those were just the sparks. Something else smoldering in her, an unknown tempest.
Noah pressed his palms to the marble beside him, gripping the stone as if he could anchor himself to her reality without overstepping. He studied her closely, with soft glacier eyes. “This isn’t just about the fight. There’s more going on. I can--I am here, Maea." I'm your friend. He remembered the way she had sat next to him on the bank, in the warmth of her glass flowing furnace, and touched his hand. Shared in his grief, rested in the weight of it with him.
He stayed.
He did not reach for her yet. He waited, letting the silence hold, letting the weight of his concern be a quiet, unmovable presence. He would wait for her to let him in—or for the moment when she realized she didn’t have to fight everything on her own. He would wait for her like he had waited for Korbin, laying in the cold of the aviary, a silent and everprsent love bound by the chains of friendship.
His fingers twitched, wanting to reach for her, to wrap himself around her shoulders, but he stayed still, remembering the sudden shift, the way she had flung herself back from him. He couldn't force her to be comforted by him, he could only be what he thought was good. A Sentinel, standing firm against whatever storm that raged on. He didn't move.
Her words came over him like frost over the top of water, spiraling and hushed and yet clawing against him--clawing under her ribs, behind her eyes, under her skin. The fight, the fall, even the dragon—those were just the sparks. Something else smoldering in her, an unknown tempest.
Noah pressed his palms to the marble beside him, gripping the stone as if he could anchor himself to her reality without overstepping. He studied her closely, with soft glacier eyes. “This isn’t just about the fight. There’s more going on. I can--I am here, Maea." I'm your friend. He remembered the way she had sat next to him on the bank, in the warmth of her glass flowing furnace, and touched his hand. Shared in his grief, rested in the weight of it with him.
He stayed.
He did not reach for her yet. He waited, letting the silence hold, letting the weight of his concern be a quiet, unmovable presence. He would wait for her to let him in—or for the moment when she realized she didn’t have to fight everything on her own. He would wait for her like he had waited for Korbin, laying in the cold of the aviary, a silent and everprsent love bound by the chains of friendship.
the wrong steps
would be not to start this exodus.
would be not to start this exodus.
