Cordelia
Noah's voice presses into her mind; soft, soothing, and as gentle as snowfall. All the things she has come to expect from her husband. The One Shot draws in a breath, releasing tension from her shoulders as she carefully pours the stew into the pot over the fire. They are. They were always going to be. Her voice is quiet, subdued, but still warm as she looks towards her son. I just wasn't ready.
That was the short of it. She wasn't ready for them to grow up. To be eager to explore and run away from her protective eye. The idea alone was enough to make her sick. Still, they were here and that wasn't going to change.
Her son's voice grabbed her attention once more and she met his gaze, smiling gently as she extended a hand to him, "Come help me stir." She said, passing him the wooden spoon in her hand once he was close enough and making sure that he wasn't too close to the open flame as he began to carefully stir the pot.
That was the short of it. She wasn't ready for them to grow up. To be eager to explore and run away from her protective eye. The idea alone was enough to make her sick. Still, they were here and that wasn't going to change.
Her son's voice grabbed her attention once more and she met his gaze, smiling gently as she extended a hand to him, "Come help me stir." She said, passing him the wooden spoon in her hand once he was close enough and making sure that he wasn't too close to the open flame as he began to carefully stir the pot.
'Cause darling, it was good // Never looking down
And right there where we stood // Was holy ground
And right there where we stood // Was holy ground
