[ For a second, there's only one answer, to explain everything, but she doesn't have the energy for it when she just clawed her way out of that memory. That's enough rolling in her own death for one day.
Rather she curls in, tilting her head and down into the curve of Ilde's shoulder, her shoulders hunching up as she sighed in the effort of her calm and recovery. The shift of muscles and skin, bones and tendons that are is sluggish. The draw into Ilde's warmth she can't seem to help but wants much more than she can admit. An exhausted breath she lets out of herself.
Then she forces herself back, putting her head flat on the pillow so she could look across and take Ilde in like this, their hair tangled up on the pillow. Still close, not that far apart -- but more, so she can see her face. Remember her just like this. The softness of her, staying her with her when she's nothing but wretched. ]
(Was it hard? Defining yourself? I only knew what... I didn't want to be.)
[ She's easily moulded in some ways, a newness, and a tenderness for living that no doubt time will ruin. Otherwise, she's stiffly unmoving. She knows what she will not do. It's a starting point, but she's keenly aware that's all it is. She has yet to do anything else herself. ]
no subject
[ For a second, there's only one answer, to explain everything, but she doesn't have the energy for it when she just clawed her way out of that memory. That's enough rolling in her own death for one day.
Rather she curls in, tilting her head and down into the curve of Ilde's shoulder, her shoulders hunching up as she sighed in the effort of her calm and recovery. The shift of muscles and skin, bones and tendons that are is sluggish. The draw into Ilde's warmth she can't seem to help but wants much more than she can admit. An exhausted breath she lets out of herself.
Then she forces herself back, putting her head flat on the pillow so she could look across and take Ilde in like this, their hair tangled up on the pillow. Still close, not that far apart -- but more, so she can see her face. Remember her just like this. The softness of her, staying her with her when she's nothing but wretched. ]
( Was it hard? Defining yourself? I only knew what... I didn't want to be. )
[ She's easily moulded in some ways, a newness, and a tenderness for living that no doubt time will ruin. Otherwise, she's stiffly unmoving. She knows what she will not do. It's a starting point, but she's keenly aware that's all it is. She has yet to do anything else herself. ]