open | prompt five | ENDINGS

[wrens]

prompt five | E N D I N G S dressing-room style. start your own thread. tag others. wash, rinse, repeat. open to all.

 

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[wicker]

[ Yes, love can be like that. All-encompassing and all consuming but happiness nonetheless. And, for a time, that's what they had had, though neither of them had ever been the type to admit it. Perhaps, if they did, things would have turned out differently, perhaps the somnacin wouldn't have taken so quickly. Perhaps the white shadow that came for Iain in the night wouldn't have done her job so brutally well.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. That word doesn't mean fuckall to Natalia now, but still it haunts her like the way the man does — all sunken cheeks and unrecognizing eyes.

If you died I'd want to die too.

Iain Marling's already dead; she lives with a stranger now. Maybe she's dead too. ]

S'alright, luv, [ she says, tiredly. By now she knows what he thinking even before he does. ] No one's askin', no one's tellin'.

[losses]

[ She knows what he's thinking even before he does. (He wonders, sometimes, how she does that — how she knows him that well. It seems impossible, that anyone would ever come to know anyone else nearly half as well.

It seems impossible, in other words, that anyone would ever have loved him that much.) ]

Guess not, [ is all that he says, after a long pause, his head bowing as he looks away. (He doesn't what else to say, nor if he ought to feel guilty for having no answer either way.) ]