Maeve
We'll never get free
Lamb to the slaughter
Lamb to the slaughter
No, she really shouldn't. Except she's never been one for following the rules. Not when it came to things she wanted. Despite everything, she wants him. She wants their little family. She wants it all. The ups and downs and everything in between. Maeve's fingers card through his curls, brushing them out of his eyes before her hands slip down to his shoulders. They rest their lightly, jade eyes shining in the moonlight the filters in from above, a breath caught in her throat as she holds his own gaze for the span of a minute.
"I have too. I know that Safrin has aged her own children, but I didn't know that it was so common." Maeve murmurs, drawing back from him so there was an arms length between them now, but that same energy continued to crackle between them. "I was afraid he wouldn't remember things. Remember me or you, but he does. He asked for you... When he came back to me from the shrine. He didn't know where you went. Didn't understand. I- I tried my best to explain. To tell him that you didn't leave because of him." She imagines it would hurt Locke to think his own son would feel that way. She knows it would break her heart if Edmund ever thought she didn't want him.
Maeve makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, her thumb pressing to the fluttering pulse in his own, "He's our kid." She stresses, unwilling to let that go unsaid, needing him to know that she thought he was his son just as much as hers. "Just wait until you see him."
"I have too. I know that Safrin has aged her own children, but I didn't know that it was so common." Maeve murmurs, drawing back from him so there was an arms length between them now, but that same energy continued to crackle between them. "I was afraid he wouldn't remember things. Remember me or you, but he does. He asked for you... When he came back to me from the shrine. He didn't know where you went. Didn't understand. I- I tried my best to explain. To tell him that you didn't leave because of him." She imagines it would hurt Locke to think his own son would feel that way. She knows it would break her heart if Edmund ever thought she didn't want him.
Maeve makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, her thumb pressing to the fluttering pulse in his own, "He's our kid." She stresses, unwilling to let that go unsaid, needing him to know that she thought he was his son just as much as hers. "Just wait until you see him."
What you gon' do when there's blood in the water?
