06-22-2021, 09:12 AM
As she reaches out to brush a gentle touch along the pale gold of his cheek, Ten is reminded anew of what had drawn him to her in the first place. Of what it is he should have been protecting, and instead placed directly in harm’s way. A curious regret seizes his heart as he peers at her, small, sad smile on his lips. ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ she says, and Ten can only respond, “I needed to.”
Straightening, Ten finally takes the moment to inspect their surroundings as she had been doing. The breeze drifting from the ocean is cool on his sweat-marked skin, smelling of salt and sea rather than the death and decay of the world they had left behind. For a moment, he closes his eyes, allowing the universe to crash around him. To tell him the stories he had missed.
Her voice is a shock of reality, the wonder at having been gone all night a dismal reminder. He knows it had been far, far more than a single night. Would she blame him for the oversight? She must. After all, he had been the one to drag her away from it all.
Opening his eyes, he looks at her, the first hint of regret settling into those pale amber depths. “All night,” he replies slowly, eyes searching hers, “and many of the following nights.”
But even as knowledgeable as he is, he could not tell her all the things that had happened in their absence. He is not omniscient, and what brief glimpse he’d had of the preceding days was not nearly enough to form any conclusions. He would need to go back. Though all appeared well now, he has a sickening sense deep in his gut that much has changed. And that perhaps he is to blame.
As he follows her gaze to the space in the sky where the crack had been, he considers it for a very long moment. When he finally does reply to her doubt-laden question, his answer is simple. “No, that was not us.” Returning his gaze to her, his lips twitch briefly, as though trying to form a familiar smile but not quite able to. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any good answers for you. About any of it. Not yet.”
Straightening, Ten finally takes the moment to inspect their surroundings as she had been doing. The breeze drifting from the ocean is cool on his sweat-marked skin, smelling of salt and sea rather than the death and decay of the world they had left behind. For a moment, he closes his eyes, allowing the universe to crash around him. To tell him the stories he had missed.
Her voice is a shock of reality, the wonder at having been gone all night a dismal reminder. He knows it had been far, far more than a single night. Would she blame him for the oversight? She must. After all, he had been the one to drag her away from it all.
Opening his eyes, he looks at her, the first hint of regret settling into those pale amber depths. “All night,” he replies slowly, eyes searching hers, “and many of the following nights.”
But even as knowledgeable as he is, he could not tell her all the things that had happened in their absence. He is not omniscient, and what brief glimpse he’d had of the preceding days was not nearly enough to form any conclusions. He would need to go back. Though all appeared well now, he has a sickening sense deep in his gut that much has changed. And that perhaps he is to blame.
As he follows her gaze to the space in the sky where the crack had been, he considers it for a very long moment. When he finally does reply to her doubt-laden question, his answer is simple. “No, that was not us.” Returning his gaze to her, his lips twitch briefly, as though trying to form a familiar smile but not quite able to. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any good answers for you. About any of it. Not yet.”
TEN
@[Shipka]