09-29-2018, 09:42 PM
If she were being honest with herself, there is very little she remembers about her childhood. She knows that she ran for long enough to hate it; to crave stillness with every fibre of her being. She knows that she was loved in the ways her mother was capable of loving her, in the ways her mother was capable of loving anyone. She can’t remember the moments in between places - the words they shared, or if they embraced one another like she and Warden do now. It might have been nice.
She might have fought for those memories.
“I do,” he says against the crook of her of her shoulder as he pulls himself close. She can feel her heart as it swells, because the truth was that she had stood here with him out of necessity but that companionship is growing on her quickly - and standing here, skin to skin, with Warden doesn’t feel like it did in her memories, when her flesh could become so hot it burned.
“It’s far from here,” he adds, leaning his little head against her body.
She hasn’t felt a peace like this in so long, with their bodies entangled and the snow drifting lazily around them. For a moment she closes her eyes, lets her dark eyelashes fall against the tops of her cheeks and breathes in the silence. He asks her then if she wants to know about his home, and she does, but not here. The cold has made them idle, and despite the warmth shared between their bodies, it wasn’t safe to stay.
“I want you to show it to me, Warden,” she answers, lifting her head to seek the meadows edge through the snowfall.
“Please.”