She leans into him and her eyes drift closed, unbidden. Her hands find the rise of his shoulder, press against the fabric of his tunic, and it is at once so familiar that she can pretend she is elsewhere. Her own garment, while made of fine silk, is neither white, nor of the same quality as her own clothing. She feels rough next to him and dislikes the sensation.
A quiet voice in the back of her mind, the echoes of her own fears, remind her that she is changed. That she has lost her ring and become a desperate person in this place. She ignores it in favor of the warmth of his forehead against her own.
It takes some time to answer him.
"Perhaps two years; I have lost time in this place and it is hard to count days when sleep reaches out and claims me at the end of each of them."
He is truly here. He is the only stable mooring, the only true bastion in her life, and oh but she has missed him. He is the only person who knows her and the only person who loves her still. Her hand slides until it reaches his neck and then gently settles against the side of his face.
She opens her eyes to look upon him and a terrible thought occurs to her.
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regna
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-24 06:13 am (UTC)A quiet voice in the back of her mind, the echoes of her own fears, remind her that she is changed. That she has lost her ring and become a desperate person in this place. She ignores it in favor of the warmth of his forehead against her own.
It takes some time to answer him.
"Perhaps two years; I have lost time in this place and it is hard to count days when sleep reaches out and claims me at the end of each of them."
He is truly here. He is the only stable mooring, the only true bastion in her life, and oh but she has missed him. He is the only person who knows her and the only person who loves her still. Her hand slides until it reaches his neck and then gently settles against the side of his face.
She opens her eyes to look upon him and a terrible thought occurs to her.
"When did you leave when you came here?"