i can feel you slipping through my hands (se)(o)

AISHA

and now we're breeding a feeling of animosity

So much sadness, so much grief. So much emotion. His blue eyes were so full of it all, and so longing for resolve. She watched him try to drown that dredged up sorrow with a sniffle and a shaky breath, drain the wells so that no one can see the memories brought to the surface. But her words, her hand along his cheek, she kept the emotion there where they could try to heal.

The wisp was alive in them both, churning and turning in the electric touch they shared.

And then he continued, pressing into that cage she'd cracked, pushing the door further on it's rusty hinges. He was almost asking for too much, she should've left the lock in place. She fought against the strong urge to push him away again, to shout and keep him away from her tender heart. If he kissed her now, he'd open the door too fully and she'd fall out. She begged silently that he wouldn't let her fall.

She trembled as he came closer, heart waiting in anticipation to either stay in it's confines where it was safe, or be placed on display. His lips, so full and beautiful, so near. They pressed lightly against her forehead and she breathed a sigh of relief. The door would stay cracked, but not fully closed, her heart would be secure. And her sadness, anxiety, fear, it was finally washed clean.

What a night it'd been, a moment in time that would forever be engraved in her mind. The night she'd broken down and almost fallen apart, but was saved by a friend. It was a good story in a way, at least this night could have a happy ending. The rest was the future and the past. She released all her tension, reaching up to grasp at the hand on her shoulder. Then she shifted nearer, sitting and facing the spiraling entrance to the labyrinth.

She pulled him down, urging him to sit with her in the peacefulness of silence.

fear has the sharpest teeth, it eats and eats and eats

wherever I am, you'll always be

There will be more times like this one. Times where the day turns to night and all your demons come out to haunt you, or times where you find it hard to wake up. And it's so hard to pick up the bits and pieces of your shattered self... to go on living fast and dying slow. That's all you can do, because what else really is there? What will be left of your legend if you relent, if you bend to the pressure and, daresay, give up?

Will there even be a legend to tell? Or will your name and your face fade into the feeble, beating hearts of those cherished souls that miss you when you've gone.

There is a kind of peace in that, one that can't be had if your name will never fade into oblivion because of some wild, heroic act you committed - or some bold, brave discovery - or maybe even some terrible, cruel atrocity. Henry didn't know what kind of name his would be, how his legend would end - but he did know one thing.

Where it began.

So when he could feel Aisha trembling beneath him, he looked down at her with much different eyes than the crushed, crushing blues of moments before. A renewed strength flamed and beckoned in their depths, a fire he could share with her - as a friend, as a student, as an attuned, as the man that he was.

He'd follow her wherever she wanted to lead him, down into the swallowing shadows if she so wished. He'd take her hand in his and that would leave him with an irreplaceable peace.

more than just a memory

HENRY