down to the waters we will run (open)

”Mmhmm,” she mutters, nodding in agreement. For some, that’s how they got to sleep at night, pretending they made the right choice, pretending they did it for some greater good, what have you. Weaver? She just lives. She doesn’t need to tell herself she made the right decisions. She simply made her decisions, and that was good enough.

She raises an eyebrow as he suggests he’s boring, making a show of looking down at the waves that undulate beneath their feet, then to the Hels that sit on their arm compelled by his magic. ”If you say so, but that sounds like a lie to me. But go ahead, if you like the pretense.” She gives him a sly, amused grin. His expression tightens at the idea of joy, and she wants to press, but stops herself, thinking better of it. After all, he could just compel the Hel to jump off her arm if she pissed him off too much.

”Yep,” she says instead, letting the topic drift to Halo. Her gaze drifts back to the horizon, to the blueness of it. ”Hence why I’m rather fascinated with this place. Sun that doesn’t blind you, a horizon that isn’t white.” Apparently there were still things trying to kill her at every turn, but she was used to that at least.

weaver

-- kiss you like a whiskey fire --