eclecticmuses: Bright
Slow, even breath. Very close to her. Even without opening her eyes or searching her senses, she knows who it is.
For the first time, she can hear the breathing. Always before she woke up starting up, trying to break away from a nightmare, of memories too vivid to ever fade, and did she know that. But this morning, she's evaded a nightmare wake-up somehow, and can... appreciate, if only for moments, rising like this. Or, overall, waking up, which for a while wasn't certain to keep happening, she knows. And he...
Every morning, he's been here, to hold her and wipe away her tears, to calm her speeding heart, to reassure her that it wasn't her fault wasn't it?, to replace, or at least help replace a little bit, the imprinted memories, of people living, dying, and their deaths, with the present. And now, for a few moments, he's here and resting beside her. Just a warm body close to her. A sleeping man, soul and body at rest. She knows, knows so well how much he has helped. And she can let that seep through her awareness now, not just work unconsciously. A little bit of peace.
His aura... It seems like the wound is bleeding a little less. That there are times when it's staunched and all his strength remains his own. Or... shared with her. Each time she walks through a door, she sees relief washing through him, almost every time as strong as that soot-covered day when Simon and her stumbled back to the ruins. A lifetime ago. Many days ago. He feels everything so strongly... Grief. Pain. Joy. Relief.
Love.
She's not even aware she's stirred; or rather, she's merely turned her head to face him, to look at him, slender form under the covers. Stringy arm stretched towards her, but not pressing onto her. Careful, so careful even when asleep. Not a step too close, not a beat too fast. But even that tiny stirring starts bringing him awake, and she watches small ripples of bright glitter spread through him.
This... this Sight. She could spend her lifetime waking up to it.
This Sight, and the sight of those dark eyes opening to look at her. And warm up and lighten a bit with the awareness that she hasn't been jolted awake by a nightmare, that she is... better. It washes through her along with the sound of his voice bidding her good morning.
She answers, and then after a long moment, smiles and adds quietly, completely and utterly honest, "You're a very rare person, Pollux DuMorne."
For the first time, she can hear the breathing. Always before she woke up starting up, trying to break away from a nightmare, of memories too vivid to ever fade, and did she know that. But this morning, she's evaded a nightmare wake-up somehow, and can... appreciate, if only for moments, rising like this. Or, overall, waking up, which for a while wasn't certain to keep happening, she knows. And he...
Every morning, he's been here, to hold her and wipe away her tears, to calm her speeding heart, to reassure her that it wasn't her fault wasn't it?, to replace, or at least help replace a little bit, the imprinted memories, of people living, dying, and their deaths, with the present. And now, for a few moments, he's here and resting beside her. Just a warm body close to her. A sleeping man, soul and body at rest. She knows, knows so well how much he has helped. And she can let that seep through her awareness now, not just work unconsciously. A little bit of peace.
His aura... It seems like the wound is bleeding a little less. That there are times when it's staunched and all his strength remains his own. Or... shared with her. Each time she walks through a door, she sees relief washing through him, almost every time as strong as that soot-covered day when Simon and her stumbled back to the ruins. A lifetime ago. Many days ago. He feels everything so strongly... Grief. Pain. Joy. Relief.
Love.
She's not even aware she's stirred; or rather, she's merely turned her head to face him, to look at him, slender form under the covers. Stringy arm stretched towards her, but not pressing onto her. Careful, so careful even when asleep. Not a step too close, not a beat too fast. But even that tiny stirring starts bringing him awake, and she watches small ripples of bright glitter spread through him.
This... this Sight. She could spend her lifetime waking up to it.
This Sight, and the sight of those dark eyes opening to look at her. And warm up and lighten a bit with the awareness that she hasn't been jolted awake by a nightmare, that she is... better. It washes through her along with the sound of his voice bidding her good morning.
She answers, and then after a long moment, smiles and adds quietly, completely and utterly honest, "You're a very rare person, Pollux DuMorne."