Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
She ignored the first statement, uncertain if it meant anything at all, while she was too busy trying to figure out where to put her hands as he flailed. Relief curled around her, and her breath softened into the warm puffs of air surrounding her expanse – hands clinging instinctively back, wrapped around him to ensure he was still there, still present, still real, still tangible. That he wouldn’t be able to flee, that she wouldn’t lose him in the dead of night, that this wasn’t some broken-down fallacy she’d have to recall in a nightmare. “I’ve been looking for you,” she whispered, muffled against the fabric of his layers. Should she say why? Would it prompt something? Would it make everything worse? She didn’t know – none of this was simple, concise, or predictable.
She withdrew only so her hands could grab hold of his face, keeping him in place while she figured out how to drag him home. “I searched most of Torchline before coming through the portal.” Gentle, her palms drifted down until fingers interlocked with his, as if to coax and lead; another anchor, another lifeline. “What are you doing out here?” Had he been lost? And did it matter, when he was alive and whole now, when she could bring him back to the sands, to the surf, to the shore, and to Sunjata?
She withdrew only so her hands could grab hold of his face, keeping him in place while she figured out how to drag him home. “I searched most of Torchline before coming through the portal.” Gentle, her palms drifted down until fingers interlocked with his, as if to coax and lead; another anchor, another lifeline. “What are you doing out here?” Had he been lost? And did it matter, when he was alive and whole now, when she could bring him back to the sands, to the surf, to the shore, and to Sunjata?
Melita
