[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

She cannot decide if she is grateful that he closes the distance or if she, desperately, wishes that he would leave her alone. She cannot decide if it is relief or shame that floods her when he is finally at her side and she can collapse against him, not thinking of the blood that she smears against him, the way that her skin stings in protest against the sudden warmth of his hide. She doesn’t care though because, for the first time, there is something comforting, something real, and she is suddenly starved for it.

Adna turns to press her face into his neck.

Where the rest of the world bleeds away and it’s just the two of them.

Where even the sound of her own sobs begin to grow muffled.

In this space, where it’s just the spice and the heat of him, that beautiful normalcy he somehow thought was anything but beautiful, she can almost forget what had happened. Why she was crying. Why her sides hurt so bad, why her entire body ached and trembled. It’s only when he asks that question that she is drawn back to the present, her mind nearly snapping as everything rushes back into stark relief.

Another tremble and snap, like autumn leaves beneath a careless heal, and she whispers

“Ghaul,”

as though he would hear her if she was any louder.

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

Adna