freedom hangs like heaven; etro

[etro]

etro --

in the hushing dusk, under a swollen silver moon,
I came walking with the wind to watch the cactus bloom

His mere presence calms her mind, clouds her senses, and she is grateful for the distraction. She is grateful to not think about Kingslay’s shark eyes or the death of her father or her own horrible injustices to her family. He touches her, and she shivers, leaning into him more, closing her muddy eyes and breathing in deeply. “I know,” she whispers softly, and she does. She knows that he does not intend to hurt the people around him; that whatever he did was as involuntary as breathing or his own heart beating. 

There were some souls in the world that could not help the way that they slashed; there was some that simply hurt by being alive. Her heart bled for them. She picked them, and they picked her.

She understood.

Her mouth wanders on his neck, lingering at places where he is so dark that the purple fades into inky black. He is a wonder, and she does not understand how he cannot see it. He is a marvel, and she pays him homage like he deserves, her touch soft and hesitant as she mapped the constellations on his flesh. “Perhaps you can learn to control it,” she suggests before looking up to catch his gaze, feeling the turbulence within him reflected back at her, the tension both sweet and aching. “I could help you.”

-- vanquish and yael's forgotten trait-negating princess --