shrine to fast goodbyes
#9
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"No," she answered him, the word warm despite its connotation. She had not believed in the stories her own mother had told while she and Samhain dozed at her side, of Tak and Ankh and the origins of earth and time. Nor had she believed the holy scriptures she would come across in Italy, or even the ancient tales of sea serpents and the birth of stars. She too moved precariously from story to story, never sinking her toes too deep into one or another for fear of missing the next and forgetting the last, or maybe a lack of trust in them all. But it was those stories and pictures that churned the imagination and propelled her forward, one way or another. "But I love them." Despite of? Because of? She could not explain her reasoning and did not attempt, instead choosing to give his hand a firm pulse and move to soft, dry land. The beach looked like an untouchable tropical paradise, but the air licked with a chill and the sand reflected no heat from the moon, and she kept close to Ahren.


"I'm glad you came here." The statement came without premeditation, to explain the grasp of her fingers or the lean of her shoulder. Words had never been at her command, but they crawled from her throat anyway. "I think I needed it. Or you." Because she had been walking too close to an edge before he came. Because even his side felt warmer than she had felt in a month, and it peeled away a numbness. "One of those nights," she murmured, allowing her gaze to skid from one end of the beach and back before climbing up Ahren's limbs to his face again.

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