meet me where the falling stars live
i will wait for you
She might have laughed a barbed response at the idea of her toe serving any use, but suddenly the sheet is ripped off her broken body, and the laughter changes to a yelp of surprise. She doesn't feel his hands slip under her legs, but she does feel the one that grasps her back.
"Deimos, what are you doing?" Weak as she is she can do nothing but seethe as she's lifted into his arms, her voice a sharp whisper of fury and reprimand. She'd told him she did not want to leave until she could do it if her own accord, rejected chairs and horse rides and lifts as the inevitably of her permanent state only solidified in her breast. She'd resigned herself to being in the bed forever, been relieved by it even, because at least that way she wouldn't do more damage.
It's hard to fail everyone when you give up even trying.
Amalia's arms snake around Deimos' neck, her face burying against his chest. There are tears in her eyes, tears on his shirt: "I'm not ready," she whispers, begs, pleads. "I- I- I'm never going to be ready. There's no point in going back outside. I'm broken."
"Deimos, what are you doing?" Weak as she is she can do nothing but seethe as she's lifted into his arms, her voice a sharp whisper of fury and reprimand. She'd told him she did not want to leave until she could do it if her own accord, rejected chairs and horse rides and lifts as the inevitably of her permanent state only solidified in her breast. She'd resigned herself to being in the bed forever, been relieved by it even, because at least that way she wouldn't do more damage.
It's hard to fail everyone when you give up even trying.
Amalia's arms snake around Deimos' neck, her face burying against his chest. There are tears in her eyes, tears on his shirt: "I'm not ready," she whispers, begs, pleads. "I- I- I'm never going to be ready. There's no point in going back outside. I'm broken."
day and night
