Sleep baby sleep, what are you waiting for?

[Kagerus]

Kagerus

{ and in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times }

It's enough to make anyone bitter.
I am reminded of my own misfortunes, and find I have no reply. There's nothing I can say to her self-pitying self reflections that will rouse any sort of motivation within her. Not yet, anyhow.

I'm beside her as we watch the threads tethering her to her corporeal figure gently detach. I'm careful to extend my finger tips and catch the gossamer strings as they float past, stowing them carefully in my pocket for when she decides she'll want them again. She doesn't realize how severely dreams impact reality. Or perhaps she does, and does not care - but I do. She will want the threads again later, and I will supply them, though the truth of the matter shall be in her hands and not mine.

I feel her withdraw from my words as if struck, her mind going spitefully to the option she knows I had not meant when I'd spoken. I allow her this vehemous reaction, carefully safeguarding her against the reality of the option she flirts with, though if she chose it wholeheartedly, there would be nothing I could do. Safely, anyhow. And as we stand on the brink which bridges life and death, I find myself questioning just to what extent I would go for Sabra.

I would go any extent for my wife, I have proven that.
In my guts, I know that I am representing Sabra's Solace. That I will go all the way for her, too, if it came to that.

But in the moments following her scathing words, the once-queen brings us right to her body. We both stare down at it in silent contemplation; I feel her memories and loves flitting past almost painfully, and yet their passing feels seamless, too. I hold my tongue as we stare at her crystalline figure, not knowing what might be best to say to her as she stares that the key to life - one which she may grasp, or throw into the Abyss.

"I needn't tell you the reasons why you yet belong on this earth, Sabra." The wind of this high Nerinian peak breaks through the seams of her dream, foretelling of her return to it in both mind and body. "You see them all in the lines of your face - and in the faces of your children."

Life is hard, and it hurts. These words I allow to drift between us, available if she wants to hear them, meaningless if she does not. But I promise that it is worth it. Death is final, Sabra. What we have here - that is all there is. This figure we are looking at - she embodies the love you have yet to receive. Don't squander that. For in the nothingness of death, there will be no love to heal the wounds inflicted upon you by others. You will exist in death as one tormented. Do not give death that triumph.

@[Sabra]