i'm tired of the weight of mortality, i want to tear it from my veins
until i bleed silver and gold
She can hear exceptionally well, at least. Her other senses adapting and making it easier for her to deal with having no sight. And she can hear the feet they hit the ground as soon as she utters her lover’s name, her husband’s name. She can hear the briefest of a shaky inhale, and she knows that it’s him. And when he approaches, the softest touch extended to her arm. She does not flinch, not like she had with everyone else. She knows it’s Bastien, knows his touch, knows his smell (however dulled it may be because of her broken nose), she knows him intimately well.
And she’s not afraid, never of him.
He pulls her close and she wraps her arms around him, pressing her broken face into his chest as her lip quivers again, and a small sound leaves her. He’s safe, she’s safe, they’re okay all things considered. He lifts her and she’s melting in his arms, purely willing to let him take her anywhere, the scent of paints lingering in her sudden bout of comfort. And she leans into him, into his whispering comfort the best she can.
When they find a place and he sets her down, she bites down momentarily on her lip. She doesn’t know what words to say, what she can say. “I’m sorry.” She starts at first, letting it settle. She’s sorry for scaring him, sorry for making him worry, sorry for being so incredibly unlucky to always end up in these situations, sorry for being the type of person that does it again anyway.
And she’s not afraid, never of him.
He pulls her close and she wraps her arms around him, pressing her broken face into his chest as her lip quivers again, and a small sound leaves her. He’s safe, she’s safe, they’re okay all things considered. He lifts her and she’s melting in his arms, purely willing to let him take her anywhere, the scent of paints lingering in her sudden bout of comfort. And she leans into him, into his whispering comfort the best she can.
When they find a place and he sets her down, she bites down momentarily on her lip. She doesn’t know what words to say, what she can say. “I’m sorry.” She starts at first, letting it settle. She’s sorry for scaring him, sorry for making him worry, sorry for being so incredibly unlucky to always end up in these situations, sorry for being the type of person that does it again anyway.
maybe one day they'll chant our names
and name galaxies after us, and we too shall be eternal
REXANNA
