beautifullies: (yeѕ elιaѕ ιт'ѕ мoтнer.)
Claire Fraser ([personal profile] beautifullies) wrote 2024-06-20 06:15 pm (UTC)

[ The trembling isn't little enough to go unnoticed by her, and she aches to hold onto him. To take each scar, one by one, and claim them with her lips. It isn't the first time a love of hers has been scarred, and she wonders why Jon had to be hurt so deeply, on different levels. Instead of tugging him to her bed in the small Horizon home, or even kissing him to soothe, she simply takes one of his hands in both of hers and attempts to be an anchor for him, support. She thinks that's all of it, but then he continues, and she feels the breath hitch in her chest, hanging there painfully until she raggedly exhales. ]

Dead.

[ She repeats it slowly, thinking of those she knows who have told her if not for Abraxas, they would be dead. She thinks of vampires, of Louis, how death and the dead aren't what she'd come to believe. It's still difficult to wrap her mind around, that this man she loves was dead and could have been gone forever, might never have arrived here. Bending her head, she presses a very soft kiss to his knuckles, reassuring herself of his solidity and leaving behind a bit of dampness from a stray tear. He was hurt, murdered, and it makes her stomach ache. ]

I believe you, Jon.

[ She's straightened, looking at him again. She wants to pull him close, to love him, but she's made an agreement and she can only hope that in Nocwich, he'll let her take him in her arms. ]

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