resurrect the saint within the wretch
Home.
The word floats to him as easily as an autumn leaf falls to the ground, but even in its simplicity he cannot hide the darkening look on his face; one of surprise and gentleness - she must have misunderstood. The stallion’s mouth opens to protest, to correct her, but when his navy eyes find the depths of hers his brow furrows and his lips press into a thin and thoughtful line. His visions have always been open to interpretation - the way the events come about might perhaps remain a mystery, or a decision or choice alters the exact ending.
But it always comes.
Aletta, with all her wisdom and experience, seems to choose to grasp at that hope that she fervently presses into and Warden, though having his doubts, felt it unnecessary to disagree. He remains silent, searching her face quizzically as if, perhaps, he was the one who has had the misunderstanding - and maybe, just maybe, he has misunderstood before. For the first time in a long while, the shining sliver of hope that he had been wearily holding onto becomes a foothold, propping himself up onto it and - for the tiniest moment - the weight lessens.
The future always comes.
The man sighs heavily, suddenly tired and aching and somehow calm despite his restless nature. There is an ease in his gaze as he looks to the stars once again, contemplative and resolute. “Then that is where you must go, Aletta.” A pause, silence encompassing the once strangers, and Warden wonders if he will ever see her again or if, in this home of hers, she will find her final rest. He turns his head ever so slightly towards her, the smallest semblance of a smile on the ivory of his lips.
“You’ll know where to find me.”
Looking to the stars.
@[aletta]
<3 such a good ending!
you can obviously reply if aletta makes you though
