[private] love is for fools who fall behind, ana

[Anaxarete]

LIKE WATER FLOWING INTO LUNGS. She wants to tell him she can fix it. That she can restore what was taken from him. But she knows such is beyond her. And it burns her from the inside out. These feelings are foreign to her - having been dormant for so many years. She is  so accustomed to living in a world of dark and shadow and cold that now she lets the fire tear through her - burning through her veins. “What can I do?” she asks, her voice soft but still so cold.  She breathes into his skin, for everything about him is still so familiar even though he had been so changed.  The anger doesn’t sit well with her uncertainty and desperation to spare him from this.  Part of her wants to simply disappear - to hunt whomever had done this to the ends of the earth.  The other part refuses to leave him - especially now.  But she’s wholly unaccustomed to feeling so helpless, and she knows if anyone can see the war of emotions taking place inside - it would be Kensley. He was perhaps the only one who had always been able to see right through her - through each and every one of her own defences. “How can I help you?” There’s an edge in the usually calm voice - a flash of pleading. The barest touch of desperation.  All she wants now is for him to tell her what to do - how to help him.  She’s unwilling to abuse his autonomy at this moment - not when so much has already been taken from him. So she waits for him to tell her how she can possibly make things better. She doesn’t draw away from him - he is still hers. He will be until the moment decides otherwise.  The ragged little sigh that escapes her says more than her words had managed to convey thus far. She steps back only enough that she can see his face - the fire in her gaze had quieted.  To some degree, she can understand how this had happened. She had wrapped her heart in ice and stone once - her own doing to spare herself the pain of loss and of life.  Since that time her emotions had been muted - fleeting sensations she had all but forgotten. So she can understand the desperation to be free of the pain. But somewhere, deep down, she feels a profound sadness that he had not come to her first and sought solutions with someone who had been careless with him.  There’s no resentment, but perhaps disappointment in the fact that so many years later they could still not trust themselves to ask for help when they were drowning - even from each other. “You’re not a fool, Kensley, you never have been. Let me try to help you. Maybe together we can fix it,” she says, though she knows she cannot take it back and undo what has been done. Not completely. But she knows how the cold and the darkness can provide such comforts - and she cannot keep that comfort from him despite the fact that it always comes with a cost.  A N A X A R E T E been there, done that

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HERES A SHITTY POST 10000 YEARS LATER