[ She is thinking it too, even as his arms tighten around her and she closes her eyes to better feel it.
My Lexie he had called her, but not his like a lover. His like an old broken home to which he cannot return. Always his, and never.
It is soft, and sad: ]
Do we frighten each other too much to love each other well, my Byerly? Do we hold one another only because we are afraid to let go?
[ Is she the cold forbidding ocean of Ferelden's coast, braved over and over because there is something in him that cannot stop? ]
I love you. I love you so terribly that it makes me wild.
[ It is not like this, in Loki's arms. Even both of them prone to fits of temper, to sweeping dramatics, he quiets her heart. He makes her still. There is nothing of doubt in her, even now. No restlessness, no fear. Perhaps Bastien is the same, for Byerly.
Is it cruel of her, to hold him? She was helpless not to, could not make herself stop, but was it cruel to chase him at all? ]
Can we have this? It will be so much. So hard. We will not be able to paint over the pain of it with laughter and pretend it is not there. It will be speaking with terrible honesty, the slow and careful build of trust, and you do so much already. You work so hard.
[ She strokes his temple still, turns her face to kiss his hair. Patience, he had asked.
A little louder then, to include Bastien: ]
You need say nothing of it now. We may eat twice warmed breakfast and be triple charming— although with twice warmed breakfast perhaps we must be twice that.
But... think upon it. It breaks my heart to hurt you as well, and if that is all I do, if I do not make you happy...
[ She cannot say the rest without falling apart, and so instead it is: ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2021-02-17 03:49 pm (UTC)My Lexie he had called her, but not his like a lover. His like an old broken home to which he cannot return. Always his, and never.
It is soft, and sad: ]
Do we frighten each other too much to love each other well, my Byerly? Do we hold one another only because we are afraid to let go?
[ Is she the cold forbidding ocean of Ferelden's coast, braved over and over because there is something in him that cannot stop? ]
I love you. I love you so terribly that it makes me wild.
[ It is not like this, in Loki's arms. Even both of them prone to fits of temper, to sweeping dramatics, he quiets her heart. He makes her still. There is nothing of doubt in her, even now. No restlessness, no fear. Perhaps Bastien is the same, for Byerly.
Is it cruel of her, to hold him? She was helpless not to, could not make herself stop, but was it cruel to chase him at all? ]
Can we have this? It will be so much. So hard. We will not be able to paint over the pain of it with laughter and pretend it is not there. It will be speaking with terrible honesty, the slow and careful build of trust, and you do so much already. You work so hard.
[ She strokes his temple still, turns her face to kiss his hair. Patience, he had asked.
A little louder then, to include Bastien: ]
You need say nothing of it now. We may eat twice warmed breakfast and be triple charming— although with twice warmed breakfast perhaps we must be twice that.
But... think upon it. It breaks my heart to hurt you as well, and if that is all I do, if I do not make you happy...
[ She cannot say the rest without falling apart, and so instead it is: ]
I want you to be happy.