she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees
make you thinks she means it this time
Exhaustion claims her but she cannot deny what else floods through her body.
It is alien and all-encompassing and she almost struggles against it, almost struggles against the sticky fingers that crawl under her skin and pull at her. The love that permeates her, flooding through her senses and dragging her under and reminding her of the permanence of this situation. This was not just a tryst or a momentary distraction. This was not something she could simply slip out of come morning. This was a family, and these were children, and this was an anchor—this was the port to which she was moored.
She gets dizzy with it for a moment, blinking against the fear that battles with the contented love that spreads in her veins, and she looks for him, nearly desperate to find sturdy ground in his grey eyes. When she does find them, when she sees the joy that lights up his features, she feels herself steady, the frayed edges of her nerves beginning to calm. “A family,” she repeats to herself, doing her best to not think of what that meant as a child—at what it meant to watch her father tear her mother open again and again.
“We’re going to do this right,” she says, almost to herself, a steely determination as she meets his gaze more openly. She watches as he reaches for them, taking them in, and she doesn't notice how her smile softens in the corners, her eyes going soft at the sight of him standing over the twins.
“You had a feeling, did you?” she says with a touch of amusement, letting the moment wash over her, the feel of the children latching on both painful and grounding. “Couldn’t be bothered to warn me?” But even in the jest there is humor, the fear having fled from her for the moment so that she can enjoy the time with him, with their children. “I don’t know,” she says, her voice thoughtful as he looks at them, his wings so fragile, her spots of white so delicate. “Is it horrible that I haven’t spent much time thinking of it?”
For a moment she is quiet, watching them nurse, closing her eyes as the barest hints of her exhaustion touch the corner of her mind. “Come stand by me,” she murmurs, longing for the warmth of him, the sturdy strength of him. When he reaches her, she leans heavily into his side, eyes remaining closed as she takes a deep breath, barrel expanding, before she sighs, releasing the air, murmuring as she settles.
“Brigade,” she says sleepily, lips curving. “I think we should call him Brigade.”
she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair
but I still love her, I don't really care
@[Daemron]