[ Holding his warm presence to her feels as if she is attempting to cling to a cloud. It feels surreal, as if never in years, centuries, millennia, could she have imagined something like this. It feels fleeting, it is fleeting, and she knows the fragility of their presence together cannot last. If she holds him too tightly, he might disperse. If she does not hold him at all, he might escape from between her fingers. Like light made into mist, the transience of this moment can only be held within memories and nothing more. The urgency to remain here spikes, then diminishes with another sigh. She keeps her touch soft but secure, one hand pulling her body against his, the other falling to his shoulder as she rests against him, breathing in deeply, basking in the warmth of the hazy, languid afterglow.
Never has he seemed so relaxed against her. It's as if he's found something he's never had. She hopes he's found something he's never had with her. She hopes she had been the one to give him it, a contentedness that she feels he should have all the right to experience for himself, regardless of duty or whatever the future holds; most importantly, she hopes that he allows himself to experience anything he feels without guilt...
It's the way he says her name with neither urgency nor haste, it is the gentle light in his eyes and betray a careful smile, that informs her that he has found a sliver of peace. This is all she has wanted for him, for him to feel safe and content and-- loved.
He seems tired. Of course he is, and lest she forget, she also wants what he wants, she wants to facilitate his desires. If that means rest, if that means sleep, then that is what she hopes he will have whether here or in his homeworld.
Thus Pyra tucks her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, whispering her last words of affection to him softly as shrine bells during the spring, I love you, then again, I love you, and finally, I love you, as if she might not ever speak them again. Is is like this that they drift into sleep. ]
no subject
Never has he seemed so relaxed against her. It's as if he's found something he's never had. She hopes he's found something he's never had with her. She hopes she had been the one to give him it, a contentedness that she feels he should have all the right to experience for himself, regardless of duty or whatever the future holds; most importantly, she hopes that he allows himself to experience anything he feels without guilt...
It's the way he says her name with neither urgency nor haste, it is the gentle light in his eyes and betray a careful smile, that informs her that he has found a sliver of peace. This is all she has wanted for him, for him to feel safe and content and-- loved.
He seems tired. Of course he is, and lest she forget, she also wants what he wants, she wants to facilitate his desires. If that means rest, if that means sleep, then that is what she hopes he will have whether here or in his homeworld.
Thus Pyra tucks her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, whispering her last words of affection to him softly as shrine bells during the spring, I love you, then again, I love you, and finally, I love you, as if she might not ever speak them again. Is is like this that they drift into sleep. ]