I need that fire just to know that I'm awake
Yes.
That single, terribly brief word is enough to stir a thousand questions. But she is still not sure if the answer would be enough. The bubble that grows inside her chest is fragile, liable to burst at a single wrong note. Sometimes, perhaps dreams are better than truth.
But she has never been very good at dreams, even when she could remember them.
Perse.
Oh how she wished that name to stir dormant memories. To bring to life something which has slept so long inside her. But, truth be told, she is not even certain those memories are even still there. She does not fight a fog or a veil, but a terrible, painful absence.
But stories can be re-written, can’t they? Otherwise her life would be entirely meaningless.
Still she cannot give up hope. There is something of her that knows this woman. Not a memory, something far more visceral. Undeniable. And without the past to speak for them, she has nothing to restrain her, nothing with which to gauge how this once might have gone. Are they breaking new paths or treading the same worn ones?
For once, she doesn’t seem to care. She knows her, and that has to be enough for now. A lifeline she can cling to.
As though her admission had broken a barrier, Joscelin closes that remaining distance between them. She touches her, tracing the delicate bridge of her nose, brushing the glimmering strands of her forelock. Inhaling a scent she should know but cannot seem to place. Then, as though recalling herself, she stills, lids closing over her golden eyes.
“How do we know each other?” she whispers hesitantly, as though the answer might break whatever fragile thread now tethers them.
Joscelin
