Already she expects him to withdraw, time and again, to turn her away as she turned him away, time and again. When he shows no sign of pulling back, of stopping what they’ve begun, she feels her knees unlock, her nerves are on fire no longer from fear of his refusal, but from the way he leans into her. She stands tall and strong, a home welcoming him with a ready hearth and open door, embracing the starlit man with all that she is and all that she will ever be. “I ask for no mountain’s fealty, only that of your own and mine sworn to you,” it is a warm breath for she cannot raise her voice, it flutters haphazardly, her throat tightening.
Is it too soon to say such things? To ask this of him - of herself?
She couldn’t say, she daren’t think on it longer.
A pause, she lets him gather himself, the Tonnerre girl waiting (so patiently, so impatiently) for Asterion’s next words. When they come, all air rushes from her as though knocked out of her lungs, there is almost a gasp if she could breathe, instead it is merely a choking noise. The woman who wears composure as a second skin, who faces all glares and smiles with the same cool indifference, is at last shaken and flutters against his side, against his skin, like a leaf in a tempest.
Had she heard him right?
Wander-struck eyes pull away from his shoulder, detach herself from his skin, seek out warm brown to find the honesty, unearth the truth from his soul and swallow it like she would swallow the sun. When they meet, glowing and beautiful and yearning, she smiles again - softer, sweeter, and nods at last. “You need not miss me any longer, my King,” the words are louder than the last, stronger. Confidence fills her as it so often avoided the woman before, draws breath for her where she might have let it be held and pause until thoughts unravel. There is no time for unraveling, her spool of thread is already so finely woven into knots and intricate designs. But now, there is a seashell strung on it, red thread weaving in and out of the delicate calcium carbonate structure, tying it irrevocably to herself until she cannot tell where it was first threaded into and out of. “Tell me you forgive me for all the ways I’ve wronged you - I could name constellations of my faults and I do not think it would be enough.”
“speech” @'Asterion' <3
Is it too soon to say such things? To ask this of him - of herself?
She couldn’t say, she daren’t think on it longer.
A pause, she lets him gather himself, the Tonnerre girl waiting (so patiently, so impatiently) for Asterion’s next words. When they come, all air rushes from her as though knocked out of her lungs, there is almost a gasp if she could breathe, instead it is merely a choking noise. The woman who wears composure as a second skin, who faces all glares and smiles with the same cool indifference, is at last shaken and flutters against his side, against his skin, like a leaf in a tempest.
Had she heard him right?
Wander-struck eyes pull away from his shoulder, detach herself from his skin, seek out warm brown to find the honesty, unearth the truth from his soul and swallow it like she would swallow the sun. When they meet, glowing and beautiful and yearning, she smiles again - softer, sweeter, and nods at last. “You need not miss me any longer, my King,” the words are louder than the last, stronger. Confidence fills her as it so often avoided the woman before, draws breath for her where she might have let it be held and pause until thoughts unravel. There is no time for unraveling, her spool of thread is already so finely woven into knots and intricate designs. But now, there is a seashell strung on it, red thread weaving in and out of the delicate calcium carbonate structure, tying it irrevocably to herself until she cannot tell where it was first threaded into and out of. “Tell me you forgive me for all the ways I’ve wronged you - I could name constellations of my faults and I do not think it would be enough.”
