she did not want to move or to speak. she wanted to rest, to learn, to dream. she felt very tired
When the sun sits idly in the sky, when the torches burn through the night, when her eyes are opened and half filled with death already, Moira cannot remember the sound of his voice, but she always remembers the shape of his nose, the curve of his cheek, the indent of his lips as they pressed into her neck and left featherlight kisses over her eyelids. Only when sleep falls heavy on her mind and she's forced into its dark embrace does his voice come back, echoing and echoing and echoing, creating a mural of pasts and futures that will never find their way together. He is not the backbone of her art, but he's found his way into the heart of it all, a sliver of his starlit skin painted into every canvas, tucked into every story that passes dark, dark lips.
Asterion never truly left the burning girl, but then again, he never stayed either.
She looks at him in shades of accusation, relief, and pain. It is a stain upon her skin just as the tears that never ended roll down her cheeks, flooding over and over into the very soul of her until the pieces are ripped again. Ribbons of her heart are shredded further, broken down into threads and fibers, strung out with beads that glisten like shards of glass ready to pierce her heart again. Despite it all, despite the heartache and the loss, regardless of the self-inflicted injuries and longing, after all this time she still cannot bear to see him frown. His lips tug down, his eyes grow troubled, and his voice - that godly voice - sings to her.
Asterion is a siren. A witch sent just for her, enthralling the girl, wrapping her around his finger over and over in a never ending loop. She falls over the cliff, tumbling with her wings tucked tight, back into the sea of him again and again. His lightning-eyes catch her, hold her close, beg her for something - anything - to set him free or bind him forever.
How can she answer his request. How can she ever say something good enough for the explanation he gave. Michael gives so few words to her, yet both men bare their hearts without her ever asking. Shutters fall in her eyes, she looks down as Neerja takes the proffered spot that the once-king of her heart declines. “I would not ask to tear you from your family, I never could hurt you or Flora that way" she manages, unable to meet his eyes, unable to stop the quiver of her voice or the shiver that passes through her. None could stop the Tonnerre girl from answering Estelle's call, or Eluoan's, or even the twins. Family is family even when they reject you.
With a deep breath, she moves forward again, pinning the curtains back as she rests easily against her tigress. It eases the beast only slightly, her rough tongue coming out to gently lick the woman's shoulder. Moira looks into icy blue eyes when she speaks again. “If you think you've ever left my heart you are mistaken. I asked to keep you and you obliged only in words, I would have begged you to stay, or to know what it is you would do... You did not think of me, you did not care for what could happen..." She breaks only minutely, her face buried in Neerja's neck to muffle a sob.
“I waited months and months. I carried on each day with an anchor reaching into the bottom of the sea. I searched and Neerja searched and I could not find you. Asterion I thought you were dead, I thought so many horrid things..." Muffled, she speaks into the tigress' back, seeking comfort in her companion's warmth, pulling strength from another for in these moments she possesses none of her own. “What would you have me say? What answer do you wish to hear?"
