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“is the water in this well clean?” it is hard to tell, peering down the dark well that makes her head spin if she leans to far over the lip. the water is too far down for her to tell if it has gone silty and brackish or if it is maybe even dry, and she truly doesn’t feel like hauling a bucket of unusable water back up. wide, distant eyes turn to the only person in sight, fingers still curled ‘round the bucket she had brought with her, hoping he might have the answer. @watersrise
❣️
Send ❣️ for a kiss that conveys an emotion
she loves him, and it hits her like a bolt of lightning. she loves him enough that she’s standing neck-deep in water for him. she loves him, and gods only know how much time they’re going to be allowed, so she does it. doesn’t doubt herself or him, doesn’t think about the consequences, just reaches up to thread her fingers through his hair, to pull him down to her. and she kisses him with all of that pent-up feeling there within the touch of her lips, in the fierce warmth of the kiss. (wasn’t expecting the way it would feel, like every drop of blood within her warmed like it was lit by fire, wasn’t expecting the way it would both anchor and unbalance her. how right it would seem, like no other kiss she had ever experienced. like this was the only kiss that had ever mattered, would ever matter.)
( FIRE KISSED! : accepting )
💟
💟 for a kiss on a wound
when the wound on his shoulder is clean, it at least no longer knots her stomach in panic and anger and fear. when it’s no longer bleeding, when it no longer looks so deep and perilous. her fingers are steady as she reaches out to touch his shoulder (careful not to touch the wound itself). but she feels more unsteady than she wants to, remembering the sharp knowledge of pain at the moment he’d been injured. “i’ve never been that scared before,” she tells him, though her eyes are on the wound. fingers trace its outer-most edge before she leans forward, kisses the site of injury with a little burst of warmth. unspooling the bandaging between her hands she wraps it around him, taking her time to wrap the wound well. when she speaks, it’s with a quieter voice than any of them have yet heard her use. a smaller voice, more vulnerable. “i can’t lose you,” she says, looking up at him as she tucks the last bit of bandaging in place. “not you. i can’t.”
( FIRE KISSED! : accepting )
💗
💗 for a good morning / good night kiss
sunlight streams across her face, and for a moment she can’t remember where she is, or what her head is resting on. something warm beneath her cheek, and…moving? it’s that detail that truly wakes her, makes her blink against the streaming light and lift her head….just to laugh at the sight of iain still sleeping, head lolling back against the tree behind them. she must have fallen asleep on him, quite literally. had meant just to rest her head upon his shoulder for a moment, but a moment had turned into two, then to a minute, then to hours (she supposes). and the fact that he had let her sleep, had not tried to wake or move her, tugs a new kind of smile from her. for a moment she does nothing more than watch him sleep - - - and then, at last, without a moment’s thought or hesitation, leans forward. it was only last moment’s indecision that resulted in her lips landing against the corner of his, a kiss that was not quite on the lips and not quite on the cheek. “you could have woken me, you know,” she says, only barely pulling back when his eyes blink open and meet hers.
( FIRE KISSED! : accepting )
“ people tend to act in ways that suit their own best interests ”
eternal sonata meme - accepting.
“i know,” he doesn’t mean to sound sullen - he really wishes he didn’t, wishes he could take those two words back and flatten them out into nothing more than acknowledgement. eyes flicker between iain and the middle distance for a moment, something flashing in his gaze that he does his best to disguise as disinterest. “are you not including yourself in that statement?”
“ stay away from me ”
eternal sonata meme - accepting.
this level of chill from another person isn’t unusual, the icy eyes and cold turn of the lips. it’s just - jarring, in comparison to estrid. the two seem close and eun cannot fathom how, they seem so different. “okay,” it leaves his without inflection, “i was just grabbing this.” quiver had been left on the ground near iain earlier, and eun snags it easily without moving any closer to him. it’s easier to not talk to these people than it is to try and interact the same way they do; he can follow this request without issue.
‘ i have so many feelings that i can’t process because i’m too ashamed to admit that i have them . ’
it’s a foreign thought to her : feelings as a source of shame. at home, they never are. weeping is not thought a sign of weakness. laughter rolls and rings like thunder, anger is given voice and then abated. rarely were their feelings hidden, never stifled. her brow furrows as she sits beside him, reaches for his hand as easily as though she had been doing so for years. “you’re allowed to feel things,” she says. “you don’t have to be ashamed of them.”
her thumb traces back and forth against his hand. “i know you have feelings. so, there : they’re admitted. to me, at least. tell me. tell me what these feelings are that you can’t process, and let me help you with them. that’s too great a burden to bear all alone.”
( A MILLION LITTLE THINGS: accepting )
‘ you might not have been able to save them , but you sure as hell saved me . ’
with his arms wrapped around her she can almost breathe again. can almost forgot the wild rage, the grief, of her failure. of not being able to save the people she had wanted to save. of not being able to save every life. if she buries her face against his shoulder enough, perhaps it will all go away. (it’s a silly thought, and she knows it : problems don’t just vanish, they have to be faced. and she will, in a moment. when the guilt and the doubt ceases. when she stops wondering if he’s wrong.)
“you saved yourself, remember,” she says, without looking up. “i just sat in that castle and waited for you.” but there’s a part of her, that part that’s always felt so connected to him, that knows what he means. her next breath relaxes the tension she’s been holding in each muscle, lets her relax against him, listening to the tide-steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.
( A MILLION LITTLE THINGS: accepting )
