06-10-2019, 07:00 PM
She knows him by the music of his mind, by the soft notes of affection when he notices her and the deeper rumbles of worry that are like a constant thunder inside him. “Hello.” She says, and it is a whisper from lips that are already busy curving into the shape of soft joy that leaps inside her chest when he pulls her close. Her eyes close, and there is a new softness that smooths out the lines of tension in her jaw and around her brow, but it only lasts for as long as his lips are pressed to her dark face, and then his thunder grows.
There is already a frown waiting on her lips when he steps back to look at her - already wonder in the soft crinkles beside her eyes, and the way one ear flicks back uncertainly. “What’s wrong?’ She asks, but she is already untangling the knotted thoughts and worries in his mind, laying them out in neat lines so she can understand why it he’s looking at her with a look in his eyes that is not unfamiliar.
He’s never looked at her like that before, with almost-regret and bare apology, but someone else had.
She is used to that look feeling like a blade buried in her chest.
But she’s so wrong, so wrong, and there is confused relief as his thoughts crash like waves against his words and turn so muddy that it takes a moment to let things settle again. “My immortality?” She asks, whispers, doesn’t quite understand because it is not something she has ever wanted for herself. His grief is the blade she had been expecting, that wound in her chest, but it is different because he points it as his own chest, and with a kiss she can make it disappear.
She slips back beneath his neck again, content against the warmth and the glow of him, at the reflexive way his body shifts to hold her when she settles against him. “That is not a thing to be sorry for, Magnus.” Her lips are the brush of wings against his chin, his jaw, the corner of that tense mouth. But then he continues and her brow furrows beneath the tangles of dark forelock, her eyes finding a shape along the horizon to focus on.
She wonders if he understands this weight he settles on her shoulders, the weight of making such a decision for the sake of this man she loves so quietly, so much. It is not a bad weight, but it is heavy, and she feels it immediately as she rests her cheek against the side of his muzzle so that she can close her eyes and think.
“It has been a long time since I’ve thought about being immortal, Magnus.” She is certain she doesn’t need to remind him for who she would have wanted it with, or why. He would know, and that reason did not exist anymore. Did not matter or hold any weight. “I’m not sure I want it anymore. I know what true loss feels like now, and I don’t want to outlast this love. I don’t want to outlast you.” She pauses, leaning into him because this is an ache she knows all too well, one that carves her hollow more swiftly than any blade could. “But for that reason I can understand why you would want for me to be like you. I understand what it is you feel in that beautiful heart.”
She pauses again, and it is not quite a hesitation, but certainly something distantly similar. “My choice,” she begins softly, never stepping away to look into his face because she will hear his truths as loud as anything in the thunder of that wild, beautiful mind, “is to never outlive you.” She pauses again, so slow as she organizes her feelings into thoughts and those thoughts into words as careful as she knows how to make them. “My life will be tied to yours, Magnus. If I am to be like you, then we will be bound together in it. I am happy in this life with you, I have no desire to live forever if there is a risk that you won’t be there too - but I will also not ask you to face what I refuse to.”
There is already a frown waiting on her lips when he steps back to look at her - already wonder in the soft crinkles beside her eyes, and the way one ear flicks back uncertainly. “What’s wrong?’ She asks, but she is already untangling the knotted thoughts and worries in his mind, laying them out in neat lines so she can understand why it he’s looking at her with a look in his eyes that is not unfamiliar.
He’s never looked at her like that before, with almost-regret and bare apology, but someone else had.
She is used to that look feeling like a blade buried in her chest.
But she’s so wrong, so wrong, and there is confused relief as his thoughts crash like waves against his words and turn so muddy that it takes a moment to let things settle again. “My immortality?” She asks, whispers, doesn’t quite understand because it is not something she has ever wanted for herself. His grief is the blade she had been expecting, that wound in her chest, but it is different because he points it as his own chest, and with a kiss she can make it disappear.
She slips back beneath his neck again, content against the warmth and the glow of him, at the reflexive way his body shifts to hold her when she settles against him. “That is not a thing to be sorry for, Magnus.” Her lips are the brush of wings against his chin, his jaw, the corner of that tense mouth. But then he continues and her brow furrows beneath the tangles of dark forelock, her eyes finding a shape along the horizon to focus on.
She wonders if he understands this weight he settles on her shoulders, the weight of making such a decision for the sake of this man she loves so quietly, so much. It is not a bad weight, but it is heavy, and she feels it immediately as she rests her cheek against the side of his muzzle so that she can close her eyes and think.
“It has been a long time since I’ve thought about being immortal, Magnus.” She is certain she doesn’t need to remind him for who she would have wanted it with, or why. He would know, and that reason did not exist anymore. Did not matter or hold any weight. “I’m not sure I want it anymore. I know what true loss feels like now, and I don’t want to outlast this love. I don’t want to outlast you.” She pauses, leaning into him because this is an ache she knows all too well, one that carves her hollow more swiftly than any blade could. “But for that reason I can understand why you would want for me to be like you. I understand what it is you feel in that beautiful heart.”
She pauses again, and it is not quite a hesitation, but certainly something distantly similar. “My choice,” she begins softly, never stepping away to look into his face because she will hear his truths as loud as anything in the thunder of that wild, beautiful mind, “is to never outlive you.” She pauses again, so slow as she organizes her feelings into thoughts and those thoughts into words as careful as she knows how to make them. “My life will be tied to yours, Magnus. If I am to be like you, then we will be bound together in it. I am happy in this life with you, I have no desire to live forever if there is a risk that you won’t be there too - but I will also not ask you to face what I refuse to.”