to the finite.
trigger warning: pet loss Her fingers are slick from the animal leaning against her lap. She combs her nails through Angelo’s thick tufts of hair, attempting to untangle mats close to her skin without success. “I’m sorry,” she whispers past chapped lips; a tear cascades along her cheek until it’s soaked by the collar of her blue duster. She moves her hand to massage beneath the base of Angelo’s perked ears, a favorite of her twelve-year companion; she leans into the touch and emits a low groan of pleasure. “I know you can’t hear me,” Rinoa continues, sniffling. “But I love you. You saved me.” Indeed, she had – as a companion, as a battle partner. She was strong, fearless, far more clever than her human at times. Angelo was smaller than most of their foes, but she never cowered. Angelo was brave. Angelo is brave. As Rinoa’s lips quiver at the idea of referring to her beloved in past tense, the canine’s head whips back, dark eyes partially concealed by cataracts meeting her gaze. She tries to form a smile to replace her pout, but despite the dementia, Angelo knows better. She rolls to move into sternal and tried to give a shove with her hind legs to stand, but they tremble far too much to make the simple maneuver. Rinoa wraps her arms around Angelo’s torso, wincing at the feeling of her ribs protruding beneath matted fur. Her skeleton crunched, joints too arthritic to move without excruciating pain. “It’s okay,” she utters, gently pulling most of Angelo’s weight onto her lap. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here.” “Rinoa,” a knock rasps. “The vet’s here. Can we come in?” Her fingers curl. She holds her breath. “. . .okay, we’re coming in.” READ THE REST HERE! image credit: skribleskrable.tumblr.com/