I need that fire just to know that I'm awake
She waits, frozen in place, but for what she does not know. Common sense tells her that whatever she might say now will not be the answer to all the questions she has, but hope is an insidious and persistent beast. Even if her mind cannot seem to supply the words, her body aches with those forgotten memories.
She opens her eyes because she cannot seem to help herself. There is something in the silver face that has drawn her in, something in this woman that knows of her past. And whatever that is tells stories on her lovely features, tracing emotions along the delicate lines. Joscelin only wishes she could read them so easily.
She closes that bare breath of distance between them once more, Perse’s pain stirring uncomfortable feelings in her breast.
We knew the same god. Her lips trace the the line of her cheek, the subtle hollow beneath, then up, the gentle arch of her brow. As though her touch might erase the hurt that had been etched there. As though she had not somehow caused it.
She continues, pressing forward, until she reaches the hollow of her throat. The graceful arch of her neck. Here she pauses, eyes closing once more as she presses against her silvery skin. “That cannot be all,” she finally whispers.
She doesn’t know why, but she feels as though she might break apart, splintering into an entirely unrecognizable woman if this is where their story had ended.
Joscelin
