⟪ in her life before, everything was a race. there are no second chances, no thinking-about-its, when opportunity comes, she had had to grab it – if it means a few extra dollars, some food, a gap in a window that would mean a warm, dry place to sleep at night. this is how she had approached relationships, too. who knows who'll make it through the next month? all the worse during those times when she had tried to sort her life out, stumbling into closeness at the same time as she's trying to handle bills and appointments and shitty jobs.
part of it is simple personal growth, of course, and learning from past mistakes. part of it is the fact that she knows he'll be there tomorrow. and the day after. and next month. she doesn't have to rush through each step – with him, she can savour the hours they have, talking about everything and nothing, getting to know him. there's no attempt to stomp a future out of the ground with a near-stranger. it's more setting down each stone for a foundation, letting something grow from the tension and the warmth.
in the here and now, she's a civilian, of course. this is the moment when she learns that exit wounds look worse than entry wounds, and that, this close, to know how close he must have been to death almost physically hurts her. but his shoulders are tense, too, and she rests her hands gently against them, hot as they are from the water that's steaming all around them. ⟫
I think it's just what they meant when they said it's 'rustic'.
⟪ her voice is warm, she's... focusing back on what she meant to do. take care of him a little, after all, he did all the driving and some of the wood-chopping necessary for the oven-heater later. he can't be downright accused to not taking care of himself, but she sometimes wonders what he's keeping at bay by always being on the go. when he's not at work, he's at the youth centre, and when he's not at the youth centre, he's making plans for it, or bonding and mediating and community-building with the shifters at the bar. it's the way he engages with the world she admires, it's how much his heart's blood runs through the spaces he makes for others. she just wants to make sure his heart's taken care of as well. she wants to make sure that. now and again, he rests, breathes, takes space for himself, not for others. ⟫
You got a nice singing voice.
⟪ it's a light, but genuine teasing, to distract him from the way she'd noticed the scars as she begins to massage his shoulders. ⟫
no subject
part of it is simple personal growth, of course, and learning from past mistakes. part of it is the fact that she knows he'll be there tomorrow. and the day after. and next month. she doesn't have to rush through each step – with him, she can savour the hours they have, talking about everything and nothing, getting to know him. there's no attempt to stomp a future out of the ground with a near-stranger. it's more setting down each stone for a foundation, letting something grow from the tension and the warmth.
in the here and now, she's a civilian, of course. this is the moment when she learns that exit wounds look worse than entry wounds, and that, this close, to know how close he must have been to death almost physically hurts her. but his shoulders are tense, too, and she rests her hands gently against them, hot as they are from the water that's steaming all around them. ⟫
I think it's just what they meant when they said it's 'rustic'.
⟪ her voice is warm, she's... focusing back on what she meant to do. take care of him a little, after all, he did all the driving and some of the wood-chopping necessary for the oven-heater later. he can't be downright accused to not taking care of himself, but she sometimes wonders what he's keeping at bay by always being on the go. when he's not at work, he's at the youth centre, and when he's not at the youth centre, he's making plans for it, or bonding and mediating and community-building with the shifters at the bar. it's the way he engages with the world she admires, it's how much his heart's blood runs through the spaces he makes for others. she just wants to make sure his heart's taken care of as well. she wants to make sure that. now and again, he rests, breathes, takes space for himself, not for others. ⟫
You got a nice singing voice.
⟪ it's a light, but genuine teasing, to distract him from the way she'd noticed the scars as she begins to massage his shoulders. ⟫