She remembers, too. The way he holds his head, his neck to hers, the way they fit together like- like- like puzzle pieces, though something, something is missing and she almost knows what it is but it wouldn’t make sense, doesn’t make sense and he looks into her eyes and he says, like a thousand-pound weight dropping in quicksand,
”Orestes.”
Saphira stares at him. She stares for a long time and she thinks, and thinks more, but mostly her mind hums with white noise and the whip crack! Crack! Crack! Of her reality falling apart and she says, ”No. No. No, don’t…don’t say that.” Don’t do this to me. She shakes her head and keeps shaking it, her whole expression twisted into a frown as she stares and keeps staring and saying, ”No, no, no,” because it doesn’t make sense and it makes so much sense, it finally makes sense, but everything she built herself upon since his death would have to crumble away to nothing, and Saphira isn’t ready to start over, not again.
Her sapphire eyes are blue and damp and gray storm clouds roil overhead and she says, ”That can’t be true. Take it back,” but it’s the truth, she knows it in his eyes and his warmth and his voice and his tattoos and she tries to scream ”Take it back!” but it’s just a sob this time, hoarse and strangled as his.
@Orestes
