your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

He would remember it, believe in it, regardless of what situation brought it on. And as she meets his gaze, she’ll find nothing but the smoldering, simmering lust beneath something akin to love if he couldn’t ever say it. He’d told Loren he would try to say it, to tell her before it was ‘too late’ as the summoner had said, reflecting on Abasi. But here? Here at least he could show her, take her condition into consideration, pour his love into worshipping her until the words didn’t taste like ash trying to form on his tongue.

He lifts her hand to his lips, kissing gently along the back of her hand before his gaze finds hers again. “Let’s get you comfortable, then.” He purrs to her, going to bunch a few pillows together to give her something to lean against and get comfortable, enough room to swing her legs around to the bed before he focuses on her again. “And get these off…” He says, letting go of her hand to undo the towel from around her body, then to the one that trapped her hair, letting them fall to the side of the bed after having absorbed most of the water.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint