[ She’s right: he hasn’t anything else to say. He did leave first, then and now. Perhaps that’s all he knows how to do, to walk away. But she had met him, time and again, despite that, and he’d thought, somehow, it could be different with her. It always felt different with her, in ways he can’t describe. And it should mean something that she came here to look for him. That she waited in this room even after he left. But he knows she carries no memories, that the wolf has led her around, and that the wish still clings to them both. Maybe it’s as she said: that she was always led towards him. That she never really ever chose to come to him, in here or out there.
It makes no difference, questions of what isn’t real. Her rejection of him is, and he’s tired of how they can’t ever seem to rid of each other even when things are so clearly. Finished. How much he can’t stop thinking of their kiss before he left through that portal, as if it would change anything. (Why had she kissed him then?)
He should leave. He won’t, a stubborn part of him refusing to be ejected from his own damn room over her. He’d recreated Kaer Morhen for a reason: a place untouched by all the fucking complications of his life, where he goes to leave behind a world and all the people in it who do not want him. She shouldn’t be so much a part of it. And he can’t help feeling angry at her for disrupting the only refuge he’s ever known—but mostly, he hates that he allowed it to happen in the first place. That he knows, consciously or not, he invited her in. It is the only reason she could have ever made a portal past the gates, past the main doors, so deep in the heart of his home with the wolf guiding her in.
So he sits. He waits. For what, he isn’t sure. For this bullshit to end, perhaps, so he can finally get some sleep. He watches the flickering candles. He can hear both her and the wolf beside him. He’s afraid to look at her, afraid what he might say if he acknowledges her again. Afraid of what he might want, even knowing better. ]
no subject
It makes no difference, questions of what isn’t real. Her rejection of him is, and he’s tired of how they can’t ever seem to rid of each other even when things are so clearly. Finished. How much he can’t stop thinking of their kiss before he left through that portal, as if it would change anything. (Why had she kissed him then?)
He should leave. He won’t, a stubborn part of him refusing to be ejected from his own damn room over her. He’d recreated Kaer Morhen for a reason: a place untouched by all the fucking complications of his life, where he goes to leave behind a world and all the people in it who do not want him. She shouldn’t be so much a part of it. And he can’t help feeling angry at her for disrupting the only refuge he’s ever known—but mostly, he hates that he allowed it to happen in the first place. That he knows, consciously or not, he invited her in. It is the only reason she could have ever made a portal past the gates, past the main doors, so deep in the heart of his home with the wolf guiding her in.
So he sits. He waits. For what, he isn’t sure. For this bullshit to end, perhaps, so he can finally get some sleep. He watches the flickering candles. He can hear both her and the wolf beside him. He’s afraid to look at her, afraid what he might say if he acknowledges her again. Afraid of what he might want, even knowing better. ]