[ for a while, it's quiet, rarity in the silence and the serenity that's all a facade for what's really there, for the war that lives inside. the fall of ash that eventually showers over his body again, it always does, as if any distance he finds away from it will never be enough. he only wonders who long it'll take to cover him up too, burying him with the rest of the bodies at stronghold, the last of the envoys falling into his fated grave.
he closes his eyes, letting it fall against the lids, until he can't even see the faint glow of the light from beyond them.
but then he can feel the light shift of mattress, a slight weight sitting close to his side and he exhales a breath, the sigh blowing away some of the ash from his face. of course she's here, like she's been the only one who could reach in and pull him out, and even with eyes still closed, he reaches out, fingers brushing to her thigh, knuckles giving a lazy graze, a voiceless nudge for her to curl into bed with him, to give him someplace out of the ash to rest his head. ]
Clara — [ he whispers her name like a sigh, like relief, that she'd somehow come back to him even after all he'd said to her.
when his eyes blink open, there's no ash, no hazy gaze of gray, his fingers brushing against a different thigh, the blur shifting away to find a different woman sitting upon his bed. it's not the first time he's woken up to find her there (find her making space in an empty room) but somehow he's still surprised, even if he can remember why she'd come here in the first place.
he curls his fingers inward to his palm, reeling his hand back slowly as he swallows, avoiding any attention to the gesture or the name that left his lips. ] ... hey. You're back.
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he closes his eyes, letting it fall against the lids, until he can't even see the faint glow of the light from beyond them.
but then he can feel the light shift of mattress, a slight weight sitting close to his side and he exhales a breath, the sigh blowing away some of the ash from his face. of course she's here, like she's been the only one who could reach in and pull him out, and even with eyes still closed, he reaches out, fingers brushing to her thigh, knuckles giving a lazy graze, a voiceless nudge for her to curl into bed with him, to give him someplace out of the ash to rest his head. ]
Clara — [ he whispers her name like a sigh, like relief, that she'd somehow come back to him even after all he'd said to her.
when his eyes blink open, there's no ash, no hazy gaze of gray, his fingers brushing against a different thigh, the blur shifting away to find a different woman sitting upon his bed. it's not the first time he's woken up to find her there (find her making space in an empty room) but somehow he's still surprised, even if he can remember why she'd come here in the first place.
he curls his fingers inward to his palm, reeling his hand back slowly as he swallows, avoiding any attention to the gesture or the name that left his lips. ] ... hey. You're back.