I feel it running through my veins; Perse

[perse]

i wanted pomegranates— i wanted darkness— i wanted him. It’s such a strange moment, to be with her like this – intimate, touching, but with only one of them holding the memories of the times they had done such things before. It’s heavy and strangely terrible, to be the sole bearer of these things, and Perse feels it like a weight in her breast. But she doesn’t move, of course, because hasn’t she dreamed of this? (Not this, precisely – in the dreams, she is known, she is seen – but close enough. A semblance of this.) Joscelin is still close, listening to Perse’s faulty explanation. That cannot be all, she says, and of course she’s right, but Perse doesn’t know what else to tell her. How to tell someone who sees you as a stranger that you loved them once, or still do? It would terrify her, no doubt, and though Perse has lived in pain for years, thrived on it, in His lair, that pain terrifies her in a way that physical pain never has. “It’s not,” she admits, voice low and quiet, the words spilling into the small space left between them. “I found you beautiful,” she says, “and you didn’t believe me, at first.” All cracked skin and light, like a portal breaking open, like broken pottery remade with gold. “I still do,” she says, “find you beautiful, that is.” p e r s e ------------------------------cordis x spyndle