It's too much to bear my darlin', the weight of the world
And I would carry it for you
Noah wished he could reach into her, the way a healer reached into a wound, and draw the hurt out cleanly like poison drawn from a bite. The desire sat in his chest like pressure before a storm. If doubt were something with shape, he would have broken it between his hands. If it were a landscape, he would have walked it for her, mile by mile, until her feet never had to bleed.
But he couldn't.
Instead he held her and felt how fragile the human heart truly was, even after having as much loss in his life as he did. He would have rewritten the constellations for her if he could. Shifted fate like river stones. Built her a harbor ribbed from his own bones where no leaving could reach. But all he had was his arms, his presence, and a loyalty that stood like a lighthouse in violent seas. Even when he was kicked, abandoned, forgotten, he remained.
He would remain, for her. His friend.
His arm tightened around her shoulders, protective as a shield drawn close. He bent his head, cheek resting against her hair, eyes closing for one brief, bracing breath. “You won’t be alone." He promised. It did not feel heavy like a burden, but it felt anchoring. He wasn't promising it for people he couldn't. He wasn't promising it for Flora, for Enzo, for Deimos, not for Kiada, not for anyone but him. His stance as bedrock was all that he could give.
“I know Halo is full of ghosts for you." He knew that's where she had seen Enzo, dead, cradled in Flora's arms as the youngling wailed into the sky. He knew that's where her crown had been ripped from her head, her escape motivated only by the selflessness she felt to keep her unborn children and the people of Halo safe. He knew he could not ask her to return, and he did not want her to call the place home again unless she truly felt it, truly felt safe. "Going to Flora's will be best." He hoped, at least. His breathing remained slow and deliberate beneath her ear, giving her that rhythm to hold onto.
Practical thoughts lined up behind the feeling, ordered, useful. “I can send word. Help you gather what matters. I can fly with you when you decide to go, on skyship or on wing." His arms settled more securely around her, a fortress built of muscle and oath and history. “For now, rest,” Noah whispered, voice steady deespite its decible, “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
But he couldn't.
Instead he held her and felt how fragile the human heart truly was, even after having as much loss in his life as he did. He would have rewritten the constellations for her if he could. Shifted fate like river stones. Built her a harbor ribbed from his own bones where no leaving could reach. But all he had was his arms, his presence, and a loyalty that stood like a lighthouse in violent seas. Even when he was kicked, abandoned, forgotten, he remained.
He would remain, for her. His friend.
His arm tightened around her shoulders, protective as a shield drawn close. He bent his head, cheek resting against her hair, eyes closing for one brief, bracing breath. “You won’t be alone." He promised. It did not feel heavy like a burden, but it felt anchoring. He wasn't promising it for people he couldn't. He wasn't promising it for Flora, for Enzo, for Deimos, not for Kiada, not for anyone but him. His stance as bedrock was all that he could give.
“I know Halo is full of ghosts for you." He knew that's where she had seen Enzo, dead, cradled in Flora's arms as the youngling wailed into the sky. He knew that's where her crown had been ripped from her head, her escape motivated only by the selflessness she felt to keep her unborn children and the people of Halo safe. He knew he could not ask her to return, and he did not want her to call the place home again unless she truly felt it, truly felt safe. "Going to Flora's will be best." He hoped, at least. His breathing remained slow and deliberate beneath her ear, giving her that rhythm to hold onto.
Practical thoughts lined up behind the feeling, ordered, useful. “I can send word. Help you gather what matters. I can fly with you when you decide to go, on skyship or on wing." His arms settled more securely around her, a fortress built of muscle and oath and history. “For now, rest,” Noah whispered, voice steady deespite its decible, “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
