He says that death ought to be fun and glorious, but she knows that in reality it doesn’t necessarily happen that way. ”That would be the dream,” she says simply, unable to keep that line of conversation going. It was the dream. But in reality people disappeared to whiteout blizzards, were killed by ursurs or worse, simply froze or starved to death. It was hard to be funny in those moments, to strike a pose as your fingers and toes turned black with frostbite or your life bled out between your fingers from a hole in your chest. Out of habit, she reaches up with one hand to move her braid slightly, making sure it covers the scar beneath her shirt.
They move into the shade of the cathedral, and just like that, his shirt is off. She laughs loudly, not displeased at the sight beneath, but largely just amused by his antics. Care to join me? he asks, and for a moment she thinks he’s asking if she cares to join him in shucking her clothes. No, she doesn’t. But then he pats the seat beside him and she sits down. The scythe at her back shifts, and she makes sure she’s sitting on the side of him where the point of it won’t accidently smash into his head. She does not bother to remove the weapon from its place, though.
He speaks of the sea then, and she listens, an image of his life on the open water painting itself across her mind. ”I would not know,” she says, almost longingly. Halo was home, would always be home, and yet she dreams of lands and worlds beyond this one. She dreams of so much more. ”Our water is frozen. Mountains block the ocean, though I imagine that too is too frozen to navigate.” Her world had been so very small for so very long.
They move into the shade of the cathedral, and just like that, his shirt is off. She laughs loudly, not displeased at the sight beneath, but largely just amused by his antics. Care to join me? he asks, and for a moment she thinks he’s asking if she cares to join him in shucking her clothes. No, she doesn’t. But then he pats the seat beside him and she sits down. The scythe at her back shifts, and she makes sure she’s sitting on the side of him where the point of it won’t accidently smash into his head. She does not bother to remove the weapon from its place, though.
He speaks of the sea then, and she listens, an image of his life on the open water painting itself across her mind. ”I would not know,” she says, almost longingly. Halo was home, would always be home, and yet she dreams of lands and worlds beyond this one. She dreams of so much more. ”Our water is frozen. Mountains block the ocean, though I imagine that too is too frozen to navigate.” Her world had been so very small for so very long.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
