[ had it really only been four months since their fateful union? four and some change, if one were to count her extra two there upon the shores of nalawi where she'd been left to sit and daydream of their times together, the gentle and heated moments they'd so tenderly shared in the first exciting few steps of their dance. sixteen weeks hardly seemed like enough to encompass all that they'd gone through, the very definition of a whirlwind romance that had started off so perfectly, the only suitable ending would be that it not have one at all.
thrice their fates had threatened to divide them, and each time they held onto each other with more fervor and more desperation than the last. there by the quiet stream of zeta-12 where he confessed himself a man made weak by her love, the temptation of which drew him further from his glory, and thus from his own inevitable death. next still when she cried into the press of their palms upon his knee, and his soothing words reassured her that her future has yet arrived to snatch her love away from him and onto another man. and finally when the living embodiment of that future love arrived here, flesh and bone, they had both swallowed down the grim reminder with warm acceptance and more determination than ever to enjoy the time they have been blessed with now.
this again he might feel yet another test to the strength of their love, and yet another more for them to conquer together under the shield of their blissful and blatant disregard of fate, but for all her perceptiveness olivia cannot see where these moments might be similar. never before had he asked her to share that honored mantle of his. never before had she felt herself bereft of his whole heart. ]
I-I don't understand, I...
[ at last her body remembers how to cry again, and suddenly her vision blurs as her eyes well up once more. the realization of the destination of this conversation has begun to hit her, full force, and her body has grown too weak to fend for itself. ]
I would — I would never ask this o-of you, I—
[ surely he knows. surely he knows how selfish a creature she is as well? how much she needs for him to be hers, only hers, just as much as he once declared into the night just outside that once-standing saloon how desperately he wished to prove she were his and only his. she knows he knows, having felt that very same despair and grief and rage at just the thought of another laying hands and lips and heart where there should only be hers.
no subject
thrice their fates had threatened to divide them, and each time they held onto each other with more fervor and more desperation than the last. there by the quiet stream of zeta-12 where he confessed himself a man made weak by her love, the temptation of which drew him further from his glory, and thus from his own inevitable death. next still when she cried into the press of their palms upon his knee, and his soothing words reassured her that her future has yet arrived to snatch her love away from him and onto another man. and finally when the living embodiment of that future love arrived here, flesh and bone, they had both swallowed down the grim reminder with warm acceptance and more determination than ever to enjoy the time they have been blessed with now.
this again he might feel yet another test to the strength of their love, and yet another more for them to conquer together under the shield of their blissful and blatant disregard of fate, but for all her perceptiveness olivia cannot see where these moments might be similar. never before had he asked her to share that honored mantle of his. never before had she felt herself bereft of his whole heart. ]
I-I don't understand, I...
[ at last her body remembers how to cry again, and suddenly her vision blurs as her eyes well up once more. the realization of the destination of this conversation has begun to hit her, full force, and her body has grown too weak to fend for itself. ]
I would — I would never ask this o-of you, I—
[ surely he knows. surely he knows how selfish a creature she is as well? how much she needs for him to be hers, only hers, just as much as he once declared into the night just outside that once-standing saloon how desperately he wished to prove she were his and only his. she knows he knows, having felt that very same despair and grief and rage at just the thought of another laying hands and lips and heart where there should only be hers.
how, then? ]
How can you ask this of me?