[ there is a moment, barely the span of a breath, where she feels that panic swell. it lasts just until she sees him, just until his fingers move once again. even now, she’s more aware of her own relief than anything else - how tense he seems to be, how they both wait for the other before they do anything at all. part of her wonders what he is looking for, what it is that might drive him away. he is standing on the edge of something, but she’s not sure if she’s supposed to push or pull to keep him steady.
thankfully, in those silent moments between them, it must be answer enough. because he softens, visibly and otherwise, and yennefer feels like it’s a sort of secret between them. that the eyes he looks at her with are something to be held close to her chest, not shared with anyone else. she doesn’t know why - they obviously mean something to each other, why wouldn’t he look at her with such an expression?
i never left he says, and yennefer smiles in the sort of sad, gentle way where they both know that isn’t true, that he has left. if not this time, then a time before. and that her greeting to him - some how, in some way that she doesn’t understand - still stands. you came back. she won’t say it again, but he moves to settle alongside her and she adjusts to face him in return, feels the movement of his hand down her shoulder. there is a deep-rooted need to shift closer to him, to close the distance and to line herself up along him, because she knows, in that distance, disconnected way, that she will fit.
yennefer does not move closer to him. does not tangle their legs. but she does let her cheek settle into the pillow and she does watch him with gentle eyes, that same feeling fighting something inside her. like she needs to memorize his face, every detail of him she can. like this might be the last time she will see it for herself.
his eyes glance to the wolf, who is still curled up against the back of her legs, still sleeping pressed against her, and the rhythm of his breathing keeps that tight fear that this time is running out at bay. white fur, warm where she’s been curled around him. but her eyes don’t leave this man’s, this face, this person who she has no real, no distinct, memory of knowing. yet who she feels she knows so deeply it almost scares her.
no subject
thankfully, in those silent moments between them, it must be answer enough. because he softens, visibly and otherwise, and yennefer feels like it’s a sort of secret between them. that the eyes he looks at her with are something to be held close to her chest, not shared with anyone else. she doesn’t know why - they obviously mean something to each other, why wouldn’t he look at her with such an expression?
i never left he says, and yennefer smiles in the sort of sad, gentle way where they both know that isn’t true, that he has left. if not this time, then a time before. and that her greeting to him - some how, in some way that she doesn’t understand - still stands. you came back. she won’t say it again, but he moves to settle alongside her and she adjusts to face him in return, feels the movement of his hand down her shoulder. there is a deep-rooted need to shift closer to him, to close the distance and to line herself up along him, because she knows, in that distance, disconnected way, that she will fit.
yennefer does not move closer to him. does not tangle their legs. but she does let her cheek settle into the pillow and she does watch him with gentle eyes, that same feeling fighting something inside her. like she needs to memorize his face, every detail of him she can. like this might be the last time she will see it for herself.
his eyes glance to the wolf, who is still curled up against the back of her legs, still sleeping pressed against her, and the rhythm of his breathing keeps that tight fear that this time is running out at bay. white fur, warm where she’s been curled around him. but her eyes don’t leave this man’s, this face, this person who she has no real, no distinct, memory of knowing. yet who she feels she knows so deeply it almost scares her.
neither do you she doesn’t say. ]
Does he need one?