CHULANE
blending into the darkness, & it gets harder to see
Since that night of revelations and hard truths, of vulnerability and reassurance, of passion and - dare he call it, love? - a new ritual had started between the two. Never wanting to be apart from her, but still knowing that some days it was simply inevitable, he had either stayed with her at the Kraai, or she had returned with him to the lodge. On the rare nights where they were apart… well, he simply barely slept without her weight on the mattress beside him, without her warmth and her smiles and her laugh…
Since Weaver's death, their nights apart seemed to have increased.
Chuy didn't like that.
And he didn't think Kia liked it either. It hadn't been intentional on either party, only circumstantial. He maintained their ritual of greeting her every morning and every evening, finding it harder and harder to make the trek to the lodge alone on those nights where the Grounders needed Kia's time and attention more than he, or when his errands for the day had him so exhausted he could barely stand any longer.
He was greedy - he wanted more of her, to himself.
What had really prompted him to take this step though, what had given him this idea, was her own words, her own expression of desire for someplace private, where they could both just be, without the loud busy-ness of the Kraai, or being disturbed at ungodly hours of the early morning thanks to his lodge's cook thinking herself their inappropriate-hour alarm clock. That, and he hated to see how the weight of the world pressed down on her, how she tried to bear it all on her own, taking on his grief, and others', and barely taking time for herself.
She wasn't as heartless as she claimed to be, and she didn't have to pretend to him - he knew how it wore her down, how it drug up her own memories, her own traumas, and how she persevered anyway.
"Kia," he purred into her ear one evening, at the Kraai of course, her arms snaking around her middle from behind as he embraced her. He had gotten to know the Grounders better, he was becoming more familiar to them and they to he - they had gotten the message from his silent shushing motions to let him sneak up on her. "I have something to show you and Auni." He said conspiratorially to her, smiling down at the luxere over Kia's shoulder.
Since Weaver's death, their nights apart seemed to have increased.
Chuy didn't like that.
And he didn't think Kia liked it either. It hadn't been intentional on either party, only circumstantial. He maintained their ritual of greeting her every morning and every evening, finding it harder and harder to make the trek to the lodge alone on those nights where the Grounders needed Kia's time and attention more than he, or when his errands for the day had him so exhausted he could barely stand any longer.
He was greedy - he wanted more of her, to himself.
What had really prompted him to take this step though, what had given him this idea, was her own words, her own expression of desire for someplace private, where they could both just be, without the loud busy-ness of the Kraai, or being disturbed at ungodly hours of the early morning thanks to his lodge's cook thinking herself their inappropriate-hour alarm clock. That, and he hated to see how the weight of the world pressed down on her, how she tried to bear it all on her own, taking on his grief, and others', and barely taking time for herself.
She wasn't as heartless as she claimed to be, and she didn't have to pretend to him - he knew how it wore her down, how it drug up her own memories, her own traumas, and how she persevered anyway.
"Kia," he purred into her ear one evening, at the Kraai of course, her arms snaking around her middle from behind as he embraced her. He had gotten to know the Grounders better, he was becoming more familiar to them and they to he - they had gotten the message from his silent shushing motions to let him sneak up on her. "I have something to show you and Auni." He said conspiratorially to her, smiling down at the luxere over Kia's shoulder.
try to stand & unravel what a man's gotta be
