[ He twists in her hands and fights, but this time it isn't to get away. Just to bury his face in the curve of her shoulder, his blood spilling over her, mixed with tears, salt-copper-iron-red-clear.
(A piece of him knows: if she had not told him you will heal, he would not have stopped. He would have clawed his heart clean from his chest, and died in her arms.) ]
Sif, Sif -- [ he gasps, and he clings to her, broken a thousand times over, seeking some solace in the arms of one he would call friend. Fellow. Companion. ]
no subject
(A piece of him knows: if she had not told him you will heal, he would not have stopped. He would have clawed his heart clean from his chest, and died in her arms.) ]
Sif, Sif -- [ he gasps, and he clings to her, broken a thousand times over, seeking some solace in the arms of one he would call friend. Fellow. Companion. ]