Stronger with every loss,
His reassurance thaws some of the panic, the cold receding an inch from her heart. He's not leaving them. Just King's End. Although that doesn't change the disappointment, the reality she shares with a mental mutter. But part of the fun is getting to share it with you... And if he's not there... it just won't feel right, like a part of them is missing.
It's why she shakes her head, a decision crystallizing in her mind. I'll ask Caly. Maybe we can start the Sunbeam in the Greatwood instead. Even if there's not a place right now, we can build one, we can stay together. A stubbornness presses against her ribs, a refusal to let Vesper stay so far for so long.
The selfish possessiveness only fades when she sees the emotions on his face, when she feels the guilt and frustration grating on time-worn exhaustion. She can't begin to understand what her brother has to deal with as a telepath - not the overwhelming crowds or keeping the facts straight or knowing every hidden thought or how any of that affects a relationship - and she doesn't want to know. It's a burden she doesn't envy, one of the only powers she'd prefer not to have. A power that seems bright and enticing on the surface until it swallows every inch of your life, all the while having to keep the amazing ability a secret. Nova would much rather shout about her magic from the rooftops, letting glitter and light rain down around her in a blaze of magnificent glory for all to see.
But Vesper can't do that, and she can see the tired depth in his eyes. It draws her closer until her arms are wrapped around him in a tight hug that barely connects, head nestled against his chest to smell the familiar peppermint, sea salt, and moonlight.
There's nothing she can do about the weight he carries or the lonely life of a telepath, nothing she can freeze or light on fire to make him feel better. And that frustrates her, the grip she holds tightening. She doesn't like seeing him like this, and she selfishly wants her unshakeable brother back, because she can't stop the quiet concerns that flow unfiltered from her thoughts, eerily close to fear. What if this never stops? What if we have to leave again? Over and over. Forever.
It's why she shakes her head, a decision crystallizing in her mind. I'll ask Caly. Maybe we can start the Sunbeam in the Greatwood instead. Even if there's not a place right now, we can build one, we can stay together. A stubbornness presses against her ribs, a refusal to let Vesper stay so far for so long.
The selfish possessiveness only fades when she sees the emotions on his face, when she feels the guilt and frustration grating on time-worn exhaustion. She can't begin to understand what her brother has to deal with as a telepath - not the overwhelming crowds or keeping the facts straight or knowing every hidden thought or how any of that affects a relationship - and she doesn't want to know. It's a burden she doesn't envy, one of the only powers she'd prefer not to have. A power that seems bright and enticing on the surface until it swallows every inch of your life, all the while having to keep the amazing ability a secret. Nova would much rather shout about her magic from the rooftops, letting glitter and light rain down around her in a blaze of magnificent glory for all to see.
But Vesper can't do that, and she can see the tired depth in his eyes. It draws her closer until her arms are wrapped around him in a tight hug that barely connects, head nestled against his chest to smell the familiar peppermint, sea salt, and moonlight.
There's nothing she can do about the weight he carries or the lonely life of a telepath, nothing she can freeze or light on fire to make him feel better. And that frustrates her, the grip she holds tightening. She doesn't like seeing him like this, and she selfishly wants her unshakeable brother back, because she can't stop the quiet concerns that flow unfiltered from her thoughts, eerily close to fear. What if this never stops? What if we have to leave again? Over and over. Forever.
brighter with every win
Nova
