there’s an inherent intimacy in the silence shared between them. to bleed is human, to hurt is human, to feed, to fuck, to breathe - the humanity of it all is implicit in their everyday function, even in this depraved, war-mongered state. to see - to know one another so enviably, so truly … to see every hidden and ugly bit in a single glance is the true mark of their intimacy.
they’re tangled into one another beneath a ratty old blanket. the air is quiet - even eliza’s breathing slows before she speaks.
“... what do you believe?” she asks the question as calmly as any other - like the amount of ammunition behind it isn’t tenfold what they’ve got hidden in droves. eliza’s eyes are tired, limbs weary - silently pleading for some resignation to what she’s fighting for. (him, she’s fighting for jacob. does he realize that?) “tell me … tell me what you believe.” prove to her that she hasn’t lost herself for an unworthy cause.
in this shared space - within these four walls, held against his bare skin only does eliza’s mind slip. she allows herself a breath of reprieve; if there is a god, jacob will witness her devotion. she willingly gives him her bloody & marred, beating & bleeding heart - places it in his hands and asks him to offer an inkling of his in return for her undying loyalty. her fingers brush over his sternum as she swallows unspoken doubt, lifting to feel for his heartbeat and remaining there. “... - please.”
* / @warisgod 🤍
