'till your fingers decompose
Safrin arrives without sound, the air at the foot of the narrow stairs brightening as though the night itself has drawn a breath and decided to exhale light. Lilac and starlight gather, fold, and then resolve into her; whole, radiant, untroubled by the smallness of the space or the intimacy of it. The houseboat does not creak beneath her presence; it steadies, as if grateful.
Her attention lifts immediately to the kitchenette and to the pair standing there together. If there are thoughts for Jack in her mind, they do not rise to the surface, nor do thoughts of her daughter and Kaisel's fumbling attempt at winning her heart. If anything, Safrin more than appreciates his unwillingness to feign loyalty where none would ever truly grow, but for the one now at his side.
Safrin's eyes soften, dipping to the hair ties clasped between their fingers, with her own telepathy filling in what words have not bothered with: the scramble of emotion, the urgency that has stripped ceremony down to its truest bones, the reason Flora stands barefoot and puffy-eyed, tank top clinging, hair a mess of love and nerves rather than pearls and veils. Safrin’s smile widens, radiant rather than indulgent, approval rather than judgment written plainly across her face. "It would indeed be my honour."
Starlight brightens around her, not blinding, but close and tender, like the glow of a hearth. "With the blessing of all the stars," Safrin continues, "now that you have found one another, let not the darkness of the night ever trouble you, as you shall never again face it alone." Her gaze moves between them, luminous and steady. "And let not a single day beneath the sun be taken for granted, for such days are gifts, and they are fleeting."
She inclines her head, a subtle gesture toward the simple bands in their hands, inviting the exchange without hurry or spectacle. When the hair ties pass from one to the other, starlight spills free, looping from wrist to wrist in a soft, endless arc; an infinite figure drawn in light. It lingers only a heartbeat before fading, leaving the bands faintly dusted with sparkle, as though the stars themselves have brushed against them and chosen to stay just a little.
"Love one another well," Safrin says, the words warm, intimate, and unadorned. Then the light surges, lilac and starlight rushing back in on themselves, and she is gone.
Her attention lifts immediately to the kitchenette and to the pair standing there together. If there are thoughts for Jack in her mind, they do not rise to the surface, nor do thoughts of her daughter and Kaisel's fumbling attempt at winning her heart. If anything, Safrin more than appreciates his unwillingness to feign loyalty where none would ever truly grow, but for the one now at his side.
Safrin's eyes soften, dipping to the hair ties clasped between their fingers, with her own telepathy filling in what words have not bothered with: the scramble of emotion, the urgency that has stripped ceremony down to its truest bones, the reason Flora stands barefoot and puffy-eyed, tank top clinging, hair a mess of love and nerves rather than pearls and veils. Safrin’s smile widens, radiant rather than indulgent, approval rather than judgment written plainly across her face. "It would indeed be my honour."
Starlight brightens around her, not blinding, but close and tender, like the glow of a hearth. "With the blessing of all the stars," Safrin continues, "now that you have found one another, let not the darkness of the night ever trouble you, as you shall never again face it alone." Her gaze moves between them, luminous and steady. "And let not a single day beneath the sun be taken for granted, for such days are gifts, and they are fleeting."
She inclines her head, a subtle gesture toward the simple bands in their hands, inviting the exchange without hurry or spectacle. When the hair ties pass from one to the other, starlight spills free, looping from wrist to wrist in a soft, endless arc; an infinite figure drawn in light. It lingers only a heartbeat before fading, leaving the bands faintly dusted with sparkle, as though the stars themselves have brushed against them and chosen to stay just a little.
"Love one another well," Safrin says, the words warm, intimate, and unadorned. Then the light surges, lilac and starlight rushing back in on themselves, and she is gone.
keep my hand in yours.
