ATOM.

faltineish:

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She should– She shouldn’t– She should g– She can’t–

She should go, she had duties, as does he. She left home for a reason, for her rebellion. Her rebellion, for a moment her vision is nothing but endless battlefields, carnage and burials all layered on top of each other, then a shadow they move away again and there’s Stephen once more. Tired, haggard, ill kept and so so handsome. His voice pierces her like a spear, roots her to the ground her blood falls and each drop– beloved. beloved. beloved. beloved. 

She can’t leave, can’t even decide if that’d be the right choice anymore. Stephen could help her, help her people (that’s an excuse she knows, and she’s almost tired enough to admit it). She just has to walk over, lay her head on his chest, wrap her arms around his waist and things will be okay, even just for a moment. She has been a pathetic excuse for a partner, Stephen always struggled to be present but she gave up bringing him back. She cannot help but worry that she’s distracting him, that he should be doing something life or death and she’s keeping him from it. 

But she walks over to him anyway, cups his face in her hands. She could never ignore him, not really. And for the first time in centuries it feels like there’s life in her again. Once again he raises the dead.

` How have you been? Staying out of trouble? ´

she can’t help a twitch of smile at that. 

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              she — she was touching him, holding his face and for a moment he was.. at peace, allowing himself briefly to simply close his eyes. he visibly relaxed to her touch, his face falling from his neutral pinched expression to that of silent happiness — her touch was always enough, to make him.. whole, more so than before. opening his eyes the sorcerer finally saw her small smile, his eyes drawn to the sight as he slowly found himself doing the same. his eyes softened and a slow upturn of his lips into a familiar smirk of satisfaction was evident.. stephen finally showing that he was truly happy.

wordless was he as his shaken hands covered her own — slow enough for her to pull away, slow enough for her to reject him. the gloves disappeared from his skin and his bare hands rough with marks would hold hers, dwarfing her hands in comparison but never less gentle. his touch was hesitant — as if his thought was that she’d disappear, if he were to touch her. lips parted to speak but no words were spoken, the sorcerer instead closing his lips and pressing them to her own — taking this moment for what he wanted nothing more.

it was gentle, closed lips and nothing more than a quick press of his to hers, but it was enough for him to lean back slightly, his forehead pressed lightly to hers — once again, enough to where she could pull away.

“   as much as i can, beloved. i’ve.. missed you.      at this he gave a small smile once more, looking between her eyes and finding himself falling for her all over again — something that he did, when they were.. happy.

“   are you well?   ”