𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

[demainvient]

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ⊹ 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒚 ⊹ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍
 

Comments

[trebuchim]

We're bound by something deeper than blood or love. There is a shared unity, a shared trust, born from all we've been through. We carry each other's lives in our hands. There is no greater intimacy.

Several of the accounts in the Expedition journals they'd found have stuck with her, but the one from 51 comes back to her frequently. They'd done this— what was left of 33 had done what seemed impossible. And there is no explaining all they'd gone through to anyone else, nor the bond that connects them for the rest of their days. Gustave and hers intimacy didn't deepen just because of the Expedition, but it would be impossible to discount the affect of their experiences, either.

Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder like an affectionate cat, she closes her eyes for a moment when his mouth presses into her hair, a humming chuckle escaping at his teasing.

"No," Lune agrees airily, warmth suffusing her tone. "No, I would not."

As if in emphasis, she slips her arm across his middle to hold him in return, happy to entangle with him and evidently not in a hurry to change that circumstance. She draws in a slow breath, sighs as she exhales; so this is what it's like to be contented. Happy.

"Considering you no longer have a target..." Since the Paintress is gone. "Maybe you need a new hobby?"