ᴀʟɪsᴀɪᴇ "ғɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ" ʟᴇᴠᴇɪʟʟᴇᴜʀ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fearlessly) wrote2019-12-12 08:47 pm
fearlessly) wrote2019-12-12 08:47 pm
THE PSL!!!!!!
[ this time, returning had not been easy.
it's certainly not the first time. from the temple and lunatia both, alisaie had returned to her home only to bounce back to both places, but each time had been a reset, a return to her "real life," to what she left behind, as if she had never left. she had no recollection of her time spent outside of this world, no memory of the events, or emotions, or people she had been leaving behind, and so ignorance had been bliss. she had remembered, of course, every time she returned, but it had hardly mattered then, once she was back.
this time, she remembers, and because of it there is a sense of.. finality. alisaie does not know how or why, but somehow, deep in her gut, she knows that she will not be returning to lunatia. it might be her natural cynicism, her realism that one day it would come to pass that she would arrive home and not return, and she may very well be wrong, but still she cannot help the feeling that it is over, that just as she had expected she is left to remember it all, to keenly feel the ache of her breaking heart.
prompto would have said that it would be worth it. he had said as much, in the past. he would say that having experienced love would be enough, that their time together, even if less than they both would want, would be better than nothing. she wants to agree, but in her heart she cannot convince herself, and instead there is only a quiet, private bitterness that she nurses in the deep hours of the night when she sleeps to the sound of the chilly wind over the dry sands of amh araeng. the desert suits her, arid and inhospitable and imbued with an old and powerful sense of longing and loss; mayhaps it was one of the many reasons she had been drawn here to begin with, when she first arrived on the shard. this wasteland at the ends of the earth, its very sands and stones infused with the ache of countless grieving hearts and angry ends, is a reflection of her soul. it always has been.
but still she works. that much is easy. there is always work to be done, and alisaie is more than happy to see to it, to bury herself in it, to distract herself from her anger and heartbreak because it has been several moons now, and she was right. it has all ended, and rather than prompto being erased from her heart and mind, she is left with the lingering memory of him in her mind's eye, on her skin, in her heart. he had promised, and where is he now? where is she? alone with her thoughts in this desolate wasteland.
would that he were here, if only so she could sock him right in the gut. ]
it's certainly not the first time. from the temple and lunatia both, alisaie had returned to her home only to bounce back to both places, but each time had been a reset, a return to her "real life," to what she left behind, as if she had never left. she had no recollection of her time spent outside of this world, no memory of the events, or emotions, or people she had been leaving behind, and so ignorance had been bliss. she had remembered, of course, every time she returned, but it had hardly mattered then, once she was back.
this time, she remembers, and because of it there is a sense of.. finality. alisaie does not know how or why, but somehow, deep in her gut, she knows that she will not be returning to lunatia. it might be her natural cynicism, her realism that one day it would come to pass that she would arrive home and not return, and she may very well be wrong, but still she cannot help the feeling that it is over, that just as she had expected she is left to remember it all, to keenly feel the ache of her breaking heart.
prompto would have said that it would be worth it. he had said as much, in the past. he would say that having experienced love would be enough, that their time together, even if less than they both would want, would be better than nothing. she wants to agree, but in her heart she cannot convince herself, and instead there is only a quiet, private bitterness that she nurses in the deep hours of the night when she sleeps to the sound of the chilly wind over the dry sands of amh araeng. the desert suits her, arid and inhospitable and imbued with an old and powerful sense of longing and loss; mayhaps it was one of the many reasons she had been drawn here to begin with, when she first arrived on the shard. this wasteland at the ends of the earth, its very sands and stones infused with the ache of countless grieving hearts and angry ends, is a reflection of her soul. it always has been.
but still she works. that much is easy. there is always work to be done, and alisaie is more than happy to see to it, to bury herself in it, to distract herself from her anger and heartbreak because it has been several moons now, and she was right. it has all ended, and rather than prompto being erased from her heart and mind, she is left with the lingering memory of him in her mind's eye, on her skin, in her heart. he had promised, and where is he now? where is she? alone with her thoughts in this desolate wasteland.
would that he were here, if only so she could sock him right in the gut. ]
no subject
wait when did she scare him underwater.. i forget that one.. was it when she almost drowned, because that doesn't count as the same type of terrorizing, it's not nearly as fun. anyway, she doesn't seem too worried about giving him a brain injury, he was fine!! just as stupid now as he was before.
his breath tickles her sensitive ear, and alisaie laughs lightly under her breath, slinging one arm over his shoulders, the other curled between them. ]
Ah yes, we come now to the real reason you fell for me. I know I am not the same without pink feathers, but I hope you will try to love me all the same.
no subject
He finds her hand curled between them and threads his fingers through hers, his tired smile fond at its corners. Funny, how long its been since they first met now, since they first held hands, while watching the lanterns on the lake outside Astoria's temple. And yet there's still a rush of warmth to his heart when their palms kiss, the brush of skin on skin so familiar and yet no less thrilling than it first was.
What a privilege it is, to be in love, and to be loved by her. ]
I'll manage. I can think of...oh, about a thousand other reasons I love you.
no subject
Please don't, I would like to get some sleep sometime soon..
[ she says, nudging her head beneath his chin. ]
Feel free to think them.
no subject
[ Fall asleep thinking about all the ways you love her? You mean, the way he falls asleep every night???
But she has the right idea, snuggling against him, and honestly, much as he might like to name all the things he loves about her, sleep does sound absolutely amazing right now. Here with her, in a nice, clean bed in nice, clean clothes, everything feels safe and warm and perfect.
He dips down to press a kiss to the crown of her head, his eyes fluttering shut in earnest. ]
G'night, sweetheart. I love...you...
[ Yeah, he's barely hanging on to consciousness here. ]