Weaver
So precious is this life, this gift,
this temporary blindness.
this temporary blindness.
Weaver takes a bite of her scone, stifling a laugh and trying not to accidentally spit it out as he responds. ”You can’t say funny things when I’m eating delicious scones.” She finishes her bite and swallows before continuing. ”I do suppose being a pile of trouble is at least better than ‘who the fuck are you’? Though it may still get you thrown out of Halo.” Though her tone is light and teasing, because really, she does not think Loren is in danger of being thrown out of Halo. As far as she is aware, he’s reasonably well liked for being an Outlander and a Launceleyn.
”You’re the healer, you tell me. Though as far as I am aware, sleep is rather necessary to life.” To be fair, she enjoys sleep. Enjoys the luxury of it, for it has been one of the few luxuries in her life. She also enjoys waking up beside someone else, though for her, it’d been familial rather than eros love. There were nights after her parents died she’d crawl into Erebor’s bed and just cry. Korbin never knew. She’d fall asleep there, overwhelmed, with her mountain of a brother to hold her together. There were nights Korbin was the one to crawl into her bed, and she’d hold him together. After Erebor died, there’d been no one to keep her from falling into pieces, and so she’d learned to hold herself together, to live with the pain. ”I can see that,” she replies, perhaps a beat too late, her mind still stuck in a piece of her past she’d nearly forgotten. One that perhaps she wanted to forget.
As he mentions Frey, she drags herself back to the present, and the smile on her face at his words is a soft and genuine thing. ”I do not think those are humble goals. They are very big goals, in fact. To do right by a whole people, who are not even your people. At least not yet. To raise a family. To shape little lives into something and someone.” They were perhaps not unlike her goals, and her mind skips to ideas that she quickly smothers. ”They are very good goals.”
”You’re the healer, you tell me. Though as far as I am aware, sleep is rather necessary to life.” To be fair, she enjoys sleep. Enjoys the luxury of it, for it has been one of the few luxuries in her life. She also enjoys waking up beside someone else, though for her, it’d been familial rather than eros love. There were nights after her parents died she’d crawl into Erebor’s bed and just cry. Korbin never knew. She’d fall asleep there, overwhelmed, with her mountain of a brother to hold her together. There were nights Korbin was the one to crawl into her bed, and she’d hold him together. After Erebor died, there’d been no one to keep her from falling into pieces, and so she’d learned to hold herself together, to live with the pain. ”I can see that,” she replies, perhaps a beat too late, her mind still stuck in a piece of her past she’d nearly forgotten. One that perhaps she wanted to forget.
As he mentions Frey, she drags herself back to the present, and the smile on her face at his words is a soft and genuine thing. ”I do not think those are humble goals. They are very big goals, in fact. To do right by a whole people, who are not even your people. At least not yet. To raise a family. To shape little lives into something and someone.” They were perhaps not unlike her goals, and her mind skips to ideas that she quickly smothers. ”They are very good goals.”
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark,
then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
