she holds her wife tenderly, deeply, face buried into endless golden strands and sighing in content. " i love you, i love you, i love you. "
she is tired, and she is exhausted by the time the sun takes its leave from the skies. a long - fought war, a path without end. a trail that leads into the dark and sees no end. hylia’s grip tightens on her weapon, the swords dulled blade still stained and now tarnished. she did not want her last breaths to be heaves of exhaust, but there was little she could do in the matter.
( “get out, go, run as far as you can, don’t look behind you.” “but what of you?” “have faith that i am in your footsteps, my love.” )
ah, the sorceress thinks, at least her love was safe. that was the most any could ask for. but there’s a sharp and searing pain that shoots through her side, a splitting discomfort in her mind, and her legs nearly give out. she stumbles, falls forward, and only remains upright because of her weapon.
❛❛ hylia!! ❜❜ was it relief that she had heard in the approaching tone of the other? perhaps. and that possibility causes a rush of tranquility to wash over her. hylia stands again, difficult it may be, takes a few steps towards the others, and collapses into her arms when they meet. she remains unmoving for a long moment, before hands relax and empty, moving to clutch onto her betrotheds clothes as tightly as she could muster.
hylia can feel the other’s face bury into her messy and unruly hair, feel the dampness that covers both their faces now. her breaths are shaking, jutting, erratic — trying to take in what air she can but weep all at once. hylia’s arms squeeze the smaller womans form.
❛❛ please stay here, ❜❜ she says, begs, to the other. ❛❛ please don’t go; i won’t make it if you go. ❜❜
she is tired and she is exhausted, but she is home.