when it's just the two of us, only the two of us
There's my girl, he says, as if he'd never been gone, as if she's not been without his voice for over a year. And gods, Isla doesn't expect it to hurt as much as it does to look at his face, to feel his ghostly there-but-not touch. As Varus's fingers slip away she finds her own whispering across her cheek, as if she could summon him back if she just thinks about it enough.
"I love you too," she whispers; the rest of the festival might as well have melted away as far as the Remedy is concerned - she only has eyes for Varus and ears for his fiddle, the music sinking deep into her bones, setting them alight. It hurts, and it hurts so good, and even though her throat burns and tears wet her cheeks, she won't look away for anything in the world.
"I love you too," she whispers; the rest of the festival might as well have melted away as far as the Remedy is concerned - she only has eyes for Varus and ears for his fiddle, the music sinking deep into her bones, setting them alight. It hurts, and it hurts so good, and even though her throat burns and tears wet her cheeks, she won't look away for anything in the world.
i could die
Isla
