Aurelia
How come silence is so loud in the shadows?
I wanna scream 'til it's on
I wanna scream 'til it's on
She's only glad he doesn't put up any sort of protest. Knowing him, that's a bit of a miracle. Her hand fishes around his back, steadying his wobbly legs and attempting to guide his steps to ensure they both don't go tumbling off the edge into the great fucking unknown. Not so great at this moment, she thinks.
Her brows furrow incredulously. "I thought you were dead," she mutters between gritted teeth and concentrated use of all the strength she has to support him, "you fell off a cliff, your head's busted," she eyes him for a split second, gaze flickering between his face and the blood pooling on it, "and you're over here smiling, you bastard. Of course I'm fucking worried!" Stress heightens her pitch in that last sentence.
They manage it, though. Safety at last. Time felt so much slower, and for what felt like such a long time. She heaves in a steadier breath, not so shallowed now that he's not in immediate danger. Imagine what would become of everyone if Jack did fuck off and die. The Ark? The crew? Her? Hero, maybe, but... "I'm your friend," she corrects him, sucking in a sharper breath. She glares up at the wound on his head, "and you're not allowed to die on me."
"You're fine, stay still," she lies and rips off a piece of her cloak using the blade that is always at her hip, a dutiful piece of something long-lost. At least now it can have its own moment, where the words etched on it look up at Jack almost pointedly: 'do not fear, my love, for I am with you'. She gives it to him distractedly, practically shoving it into his lap to hold for her as she fumbles with the material. Her fingers are trembling, something she doesn't know how to stop. She blots out the blood anyway with a gentleness she isn't used to.
Her brows furrow incredulously. "I thought you were dead," she mutters between gritted teeth and concentrated use of all the strength she has to support him, "you fell off a cliff, your head's busted," she eyes him for a split second, gaze flickering between his face and the blood pooling on it, "and you're over here smiling, you bastard. Of course I'm fucking worried!" Stress heightens her pitch in that last sentence.
They manage it, though. Safety at last. Time felt so much slower, and for what felt like such a long time. She heaves in a steadier breath, not so shallowed now that he's not in immediate danger. Imagine what would become of everyone if Jack did fuck off and die. The Ark? The crew? Her? Hero, maybe, but... "I'm your friend," she corrects him, sucking in a sharper breath. She glares up at the wound on his head, "and you're not allowed to die on me."
"You're fine, stay still," she lies and rips off a piece of her cloak using the blade that is always at her hip, a dutiful piece of something long-lost. At least now it can have its own moment, where the words etched on it look up at Jack almost pointedly: 'do not fear, my love, for I am with you'. She gives it to him distractedly, practically shoving it into his lap to hold for her as she fumbles with the material. Her fingers are trembling, something she doesn't know how to stop. She blots out the blood anyway with a gentleness she isn't used to.
Tell my feet they should run
but they don't follow
but they don't follow
