Phoebe
I've been very hopeful so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?
Phoebe felt simultaneously weightless and grounded. The pressure around her was soothing, calming, and the only thing keeping her awake yet was the wish to continue to bask in it. Arms seemed to wrap around her, covering her hands and eyes, and she melted back into their embrace. Her fingers curled, in an attempt to intertwine hers with Frey’s, her head tilting back to press against the hand over her eyes. The reaction was instinctual, her very soul seeking shelter in the comfort the deity provided.
What you feel is the only truth you need to worry about. The truth of that statement weighed heavily on the shattered bits of her heart. What her mind knew was simple, acceptable, clinical. It left no room for hurt feelings or doubt; what had happened, happened, and meant very little in the grand scheme of things. But what her heart felt threatened to shatter the fragile fabric of her soul if she was not careful. Her lips curved downward slightly, a hard lump of emotion forming in her throat. It would take time and focus to heal this hurt. ”I am good at worrying.” she said quietly, chancing at humor in a sad attempt to lift herself back up from the depths her unsteady state threatened to cast her down into again. The sort of ‘worrying’ she was good at was not what Frey had meant, she knew that, but the play on words, trying to find the little pinpricks of light in the darkness as she was rocked in the deity’s arms helped.
The sudden stillness that overcame the whole place as she asked her question left her breathless, her eyes opening from the surprise of it. The emotion was palpable – the hesitation, the reserve; Phoebe had stepped up to a door that Frey would rather leave closed. It seemed even gods had tragedies they wished to bury away. That Frey had hurt like this, had been hurt like this – in their own way because it was fair to say a god and a mortal were not similar enough to be comparable – stung Phoebe to her very core. She had witnessed some of what Frey could do, the pain and torment they could cause. Once, she herself had been terrified of them, their first meeting having been initially traumatic. And in spite of all the ways one might misconstrue their actions to ill-will or pure chaos, which she had grown to learn was not the case if no cause was given, she could not bring herself to fathom any situation that called for them to be hurt like this, intentionally or not. Frey had worried about her when they didn’t need to. Frey had looked out for her when she had little to offer them. Frey had guided her and helped her grow, and now in her time of grieving Frey held her and soothed away her troubles.
Tears rose in her eyes, cresting and rolling down her cheeks, now falling for Frey’s hurts, not her own. ”I’m so sorry, Frey.” she whispered hoarsely, her words overflowing with the mix of empathy and sorrow she felt on their behalf. They did not need her empathy, surely, but it came, needed or not – but was not to be mistaken for pity. ”If only I could give you the comfort that you have given me.” But she had no magical two-sun world to whisk them away to, no ethereal ability to make them feel completely encased in soothing, loving care they could hide away in. All she had was the sincerity in her words and emotions.
At first she did not notice the separation. Bloodshot eyes blinked, trying to clear her gaze until her brain registered that Frey’s face was now above hers. A mop of dark hair, a masculine face far too perfect to be real – a little less boyish than the last time for some reason – but their eyes were always the same, a mix of shifting color, mesmerizing and hypnotic. The realization that this place was Frey’s, a realm intended for beings of higher power, humbled her immediately. ”Your home is so beautiful.” she said quietly, tearing her gaze away for a moment to look at it all, committing the place to memory. The warmth, the vibrancy – so very in tune with the deity that inhabited this place. Her gaze returned to Frey, the barest shadow of a smile ghosting across her lips. ”I am honored that you brought me here. I don’t know what I have done to deserve your attention but I will be forever grateful to you.” Frey didn’t have to do any of this. They didn’t have to grace her with their presence, welcome her with a warm embrace to their realm, guide her where she wavered or comfort her while she cried; and yet they did, which made it all the more meaningful and allowing affection to bloom even while she grieved.
