from the mornings you ease to the evenings you quiet
I'm always thinking of you, I'm always dreaming of you
I'm always thinking of you, I'm always dreaming of you
This house had been new to her after the war, a structure she'd needed to be free of all memories both good and bad in the wake of Enzo's death. Maybe that's why leaving it behind, sealed and locked up behind her, is so easy. All memories grown in its halls have been tied to other people, not her own sentiment for the empty vessel. When she sleeps here, intermittent now, she so rarely has Tal at her side. A product of that intermittency, yes, but a fact nonetheless - one that leaves her curled up and sleepless most nights, holding Sunjata's shirt and buried in the blankets that only faintly smell of Alys and Talyson anymore.
Tal's presence now is akin to the glow of a lighthouse; unmistakable, heralding, hopeful. Ru stands from her armchair and thanks Tal's Accepted nature for how he will be unable to hear the hurrying of her feet as she pulls the door open, fondness already overtaking her features and deepening to see the courier so kindly wiping Boreal's feet down.
"Hello, beautiful," she croons right back, already reaching for Tal to bring him into her arms so she can press her nose to his chest, flooding herself with the scent she has so dearly missed. Even the chill of Flowerbirth can't steal away the heat of him, the sense-memories that always come when he is near. "Hello to you too," she mumbles, scarcely discernible from where she is squashed somewhere near his sternum.
Tal's presence now is akin to the glow of a lighthouse; unmistakable, heralding, hopeful. Ru stands from her armchair and thanks Tal's Accepted nature for how he will be unable to hear the hurrying of her feet as she pulls the door open, fondness already overtaking her features and deepening to see the courier so kindly wiping Boreal's feet down.
"Hello, beautiful," she croons right back, already reaching for Tal to bring him into her arms so she can press her nose to his chest, flooding herself with the scent she has so dearly missed. Even the chill of Flowerbirth can't steal away the heat of him, the sense-memories that always come when he is near. "Hello to you too," she mumbles, scarcely discernible from where she is squashed somewhere near his sternum.
the valkyrie
say my name, say I'm yours
promise we'll never be oceans apart
promise we'll never be oceans apart
totally sniped from odd ilu
