leave me at the altar, knowing all the things you just escaped
He is so proud of her, their girl.
So proud of her when she nods and quiets her cries.
And she looks up at him like he’s something worth looking up at (and this fills him with terror, Isakov, because he is not and he never will be and he cannot help but fear that he will let her down someday) and he summons up a smile for her. Something soft, steady and he nods back, something encouraging.
(How the heart swells! And spasms!
How he sways so dangerously between terror and pride and love and hate!)
And then he turns all of his attention back to Avelina.
And he knows she’s afraid and there is some part of him that is afraid, too. Because he doesn’t know if this will work because he doesn’t know what’s happened that’s made her this way. He only knows that this is what has always worked for him but his intangibility has always been a choice and he cannot say for sure what has caused hers.
He watches her as she tries. Struggles.
Watches as she draws in a breath and then closes her eyes.
Focuses.
He is quiet, still. He glances between her and their beautiful girl. Brave, smart.
The two of them wait while Avelina concentrates fiercely on whatever she has to.
And she begins to solidify and Isakov is proud of her, too.
And he is looking at her when she opens her eyes again, when she smiles.
He goes to her, kisses her head. Semi-solid. Solid enough.
“There you are,” he murmurs.
Then he goes to their girl and he drops his head and he smiles for her just as her mother had smiled and he says quietly, “you did it. Well done, you.” He touches her gently, encourages her to rise, to eat.
@[Avelina]