Time To Lose Control ⧠Rhys + Gwen | Event 10
âIf you touch my necklace, Rhys Williams, I will kill you,â Gwen spoke simply. She didnât sound like a woman possessed, which might have been a more rational and even a more desirable explanation; she didnât sound like she was joking either, just presenting a very basic fact and immediately ready to move on from there.Â
Her more human side insisted upon calling the damn thing a necklace when the word at the back of her mind was âamuletâ in some other language. She knew inherently that it was more precious than any other shiny artefact she could have collected. She suspected that it had something to do with her unpredictible use of telekinesis and, perhaps, even her breathing and mobility in general but not wanting it touched was all sheâd be willing to admit to just yet.Â
âIâm sorry,â she said after a beat, not to negate her warning or any of the rules sheâd presented, but just because sheâd known even before all this that her husband deserved better. Gwen moved with hesitance disguised as laziness this time. She slowly pulled her blankets down and then kicked them away, confirming the point sheâd meant to address earlier: that it was indeed all plaster, linens, and greying, weirdly-preserved flesh from head to toe.Â
âIâm sorry,â she said again, reaching for Rhysâ hand properly and with better intentions this time. Neither of them had run away screaming so maybe comforting each other could be a small start.Â
Rhysâ eyebrows rose with concern and a little bit of amusement when Gwen threatened him. âAlright woman, I wonât touch your bloody necklace!â He replied, sarcastically but meaning every bit of it. âThough I have to admit, it really is a very pretty. Where the hell did you get it from? Your Nan?â
Ignorance was always Rhysâ fine and shining moment, but he honestly was just curious. He knew Gwen had turned into some sort of mummy but he wasnât convinced she was an Egyptian mummy. Welsh maybe, but Egyptian? Had Gwen ever actually been to Egypt? Now his mind moved into much more random and concerning paths of thought.
âNo, no-â Rhys interjected, reaching to place a calming hand on his wifeâs shoulder. âDonât say youâre sorry. Itâs alright, it really is. Weâve survived worse, havenât we, eh?â When she began to pull her blankets down and then proceeded to kick them away, Rhys sat back and observed them before looking up and meeting her face. âItâs not all bad, at least you have plenty of extra paper in case you need a quick toilet break.â
His joke was horrible, but his attempt at a smile and then a laugh was hopefully more than enough to gain at least a small smile from her. Seeing that she was reaching for his hand, he gladly let her as his own smile on his face grew just a tiny bit. âLike I said, no need to be sorry. Not your fault, and besides, I love you no matter what, alright? Youâre still the same beautiful Gwen Cooper I met and fell and love with years ago.â













