[ it doesn't escape his notice—it carves his heart out, just as the jagged dagger in her hand would—how it takes her a moment, a split second too long; enough that he falters in his tracks with a choking ache in his throat. (she is afraid, and he can only assume that means one thing.)
there are no words to describe the stirring relief, the humbled abatement that washes over him as she forswears that instinct with that loyal stubbornness only inherent to her. she accepts him in full and rushes to meet him; he breathes easier as she collides with him, into his arms, her body warm and tucked into his. his hand curls around the nape of her neck and his arm holds her close about the waist, his fingers needy and clutching over her shirt, squeezing her close. she shakes; all he feels is how she shakes. ] It's all right; I've got you, sweetheart. I promise. [ his eyes lift to the broken mirror; what an empty promise that may be. ]
no subject
there are no words to describe the stirring relief, the humbled abatement that washes over him as she forswears that instinct with that loyal stubbornness only inherent to her. she accepts him in full and rushes to meet him; he breathes easier as she collides with him, into his arms, her body warm and tucked into his. his hand curls around the nape of her neck and his arm holds her close about the waist, his fingers needy and clutching over her shirt, squeezing her close. she shakes; all he feels is how she shakes. ] It's all right; I've got you, sweetheart. I promise. [ his eyes lift to the broken mirror; what an empty promise that may be. ]