Esther mused as the insomniac nyctophiles ambled underneath the moon, swooning by the promises of halcyon days framed by the stars and meteors and heartbreak. Days that stretched too long in its burning intensity and nights where rain draped lovers in midst of sweet kisses.
The warmth of Ivory's breath lingered down from ear to her collarbone, pressing a ghost of a kiss as she commented offhandedly about her day. Esther wondered if she hadn't spent days underneath the earth in its caves and stations, if she'd still have the sun-kissed skin of her mother when she looked in the mirror, missing her in the curve of her lip, the shape of her jaw, and the dip in her brows.
She missed her terribly, the lilt in her lullabies, the firm frown laced with mirth when Milas burnt his mouth for the fourth time in the same meal.
She remembered the familiar weight of her hand that had now been replaced in her chest, uncomfortably tight around her throat and ribs.
Her father would keep them safe, with his calloused hands that could lift her up and twirl her in a dance, with the rage and ferocity that rivaled her mother.
She would gather their numbers, keep them safe- find them again. She dared to hope again.
