[mature] I will commit my soul to your door tonight; beth

[adna]

I will commit my soul to your door tonight, and I'll last 'til the gas fumes float on higher

He has always loved her as though he does not understand her.

And, perhaps, he hasn’t.

She certainly hasn’t understood him.

But, in the end, that hasn’t mattered. No matter how many times he stood like a stone wall, no matter how many times she has thrown fists against it until she was bloody, they have always managed to come together again. They have managed to weave into one another’s life until they found the rhythms of domestic comfort that she had assumed would never be theirs to claim. But it had, it had.

His whisper sounds like a scream, and she shudders, flinches as though it was Ghaul again.

Her eyes are slightly wide when she looks up at him, as her tear-streaked face angles and the bloodied scales catch the dying light of day. For a second, her eyes do not focus, but when they do, she sobs again, her thin chest heaving, the only sound to break the silence between them, to make a sound at all.

“I,” she starts and then finds that she can’t. The words stick in her throat and she drops her head again, shuddering as the tears flow more freely. It is enough to make her remember the moment. Remember what it had felt like to feel him against her. To feel the way her scales had split beneath his talons.

Every ache and bruise on her screams in protest now and she stumbles forward before catching herself.

She opens her mouth to try and explain but, again, no words come.

in a dying love I'm nothing but a stone cold liar but, oh, I got an iron in that fire

Adna