and all that we intend is scrawled in sand
The way he pulls her in makes something in her chest soften all at once, a familiar click of belonging settling into place even though, by any sensible measure, this is still new. A few seasons should not be enough time for a body to memorise another like this, and yet her skin already knows him, expects the weight of his arm, the spread of his fingers, the steady warmth at her back as though it has always been there.
She shifts just a little, careful and practiced, angling her curls so they spill harmlessly across the pillow instead of his face, a quiet domestic instinct she doesn’t even think about anymore. Her hand slides over his where it rests on her stomach, fingers brushing his knuckles before tapping lightly, animated, a tiny spark of energy she can’t quite contain. There is a small, private delight in knowing something he doesn’t, in holding it just a moment longer. "Wellllll," she murmurs, voice low and intimate in the dim, "Asta came by a few days ago to soak in the hot tub." Her fingers drum once more, then still as she goes on. "He’d gotten banged up by some memory mud monster in the Greatwood, and while Danta was on some hallpass in King's End, he came to visit and heal up."
She twists just enough that her shoulder presses more firmly back into his chest, chin tipping up slightly as if she might catch his expression in the dark anyway. The grin that curves her mouth is unmistakable, bright even through the tiredness. "And he told me," she adds softly, taking an extra pause just to drag it out more, "that he’s going to propose to Danta. He said he already has the ring and everything."
She shifts just a little, careful and practiced, angling her curls so they spill harmlessly across the pillow instead of his face, a quiet domestic instinct she doesn’t even think about anymore. Her hand slides over his where it rests on her stomach, fingers brushing his knuckles before tapping lightly, animated, a tiny spark of energy she can’t quite contain. There is a small, private delight in knowing something he doesn’t, in holding it just a moment longer. "Wellllll," she murmurs, voice low and intimate in the dim, "Asta came by a few days ago to soak in the hot tub." Her fingers drum once more, then still as she goes on. "He’d gotten banged up by some memory mud monster in the Greatwood, and while Danta was on some hallpass in King's End, he came to visit and heal up."
She twists just enough that her shoulder presses more firmly back into his chest, chin tipping up slightly as if she might catch his expression in the dark anyway. The grin that curves her mouth is unmistakable, bright even through the tiredness. "And he told me," she adds softly, taking an extra pause just to drag it out more, "that he’s going to propose to Danta. He said he already has the ring and everything."
