He's never thought about the end of his story before-- of their story. It was too easy to get caught up in the moment of things, the heat and knowing and the wanting of it all-- all of it, all at once, always. He did not come into this with a plan (if he had, it surely would have gone sideways anyway) or a vision. Meeting Isra hit him--
("Don't turn your back to the sea, child," he remembers his mother's soft voice, how similar it was to moss, the strong and soft rich green of it. "Don't turn your back to the sea.")
-- it hit him like a tidal wave. Even though he knew all the warning signs to watch for, when the ocean drew back he had to step forward. He did not turn his back to the sea, he faced it head on, and when the tidal wave hit there was no pain in it except a strange ache he could not quite describe. It reminded him of how he would push against his bruises, how there was a strange delight in feeling that weakness, in wondering how deep that softness went.
When she says "it will end-- we will make it end,"
there is a change.
He begins to think of endings.
He thinks of their ocean and swimming (drowning) in love and magic and wonder. He thinks of how much beauty has surfaced from their pain. He thinks of waking one morning without a single scar. He wonders where his scars will go, if they will find home on the flesh of another (he hopes not) or if they will just dissolve into the sunrise like all the other forgotten dreams.
He thinks of daughters and sons and the world they will grow up in. The world that will be shaped for them, with love and blood and magic.
Stay, stay, stay
He does not say anything but he leans against her forcefully until he can feel the animal that drums against the inside of her skin, feel the way it reaches for the animal that drums against the inside of his skin, and he hears their keening cries for all that has been lost, and all that will be lost. They are animals with salt water in their veins, and he is not afraid of the war and how it will shape them-- how it has shaped them. Blades are some of the most beautiful things that were ever made. Together, they will be the most beautiful.
Eik kisses her neck, her cheek, the corner of her lip (the wound there still fresh with blood). He drapes her body with kisses, cleans the dirt and blood and sweat away with his tongue until she tastes like him.
Stay,
stay,
stay
And then finally, half mad with desire (for her, for endings, for this moment) and uncertain how to answer her in words (why can't he just say yes) he laughs, low but certain, exhausted but delighted. He laughs even as he kisses her, and the sound is muffled by her rich skin. It is a sound that no one else in the world has ever heard.
Your heart is driving you out of yourself, your heart is after you
E I K
and you are almost beside yourself and you can’t go back
art by Footybandit
@Isra eek I can't believe this took me so long! Closing it here, thank you for another lovely thread <3
Time makes fools of us all
