meet me where the falling stars live
i will wait for you
He steals his fingers into hers, possession she gives into willingly, her own lacing earnestly alongside. Still prone, still quiet, surrounded as they are by sleeping figures and silver moonlight and the softly swaying sheets, Amalia feels a vulnerability, a deep fear and a deeper strength.
She almost laughs at his inquiry: it's a stupid question without an easy answer, but she appreciates it anyway. And she will not answer with the truth in its entirety, because he already knows a deal of it, shares it in the Attuned bond that reaches through their souls. Tired, weary, frightened, furious- at a loss for how to move forward, how to pick herself back up. Amalia is sad, and scared, and relieved. She is stubborn, and desperately ready to leave this place, and terrified by the prospect that she never will.
But those are not the things she says aloud. "I'm better now," is the whispered answer, her gaze seeking his through the dark: and it is honest, it is true. She is better, because he is there. "How are you?"
She almost laughs at his inquiry: it's a stupid question without an easy answer, but she appreciates it anyway. And she will not answer with the truth in its entirety, because he already knows a deal of it, shares it in the Attuned bond that reaches through their souls. Tired, weary, frightened, furious- at a loss for how to move forward, how to pick herself back up. Amalia is sad, and scared, and relieved. She is stubborn, and desperately ready to leave this place, and terrified by the prospect that she never will.
But those are not the things she says aloud. "I'm better now," is the whispered answer, her gaze seeking his through the dark: and it is honest, it is true. She is better, because he is there. "How are you?"
day and night
