Two Eyes Cenote [m] zinc

Considerate. Kind. Seeing. A full wife. She searches Tavina’s eyes, their glow in the night vivid like two lost moons. It was so strange to see her this way, shed of her composure. Eset reaches to take her dark cheek into her a palm; lightly, gently, seeking permission.

Her head shakes first, slow, “no.”

She feels that constriction so keenly, the substitute that had closed like a fist around her chest, absolving her from the crime of being born. Something was left in its wake but it was not love, was it? Love required trust. She would never again have that. And as she bears witness to Tavina's loss of love in its pure form, she can think only that she is grateful she will never know the torment of giving away her heart only to have it returned in shattered fragments.

Oh- but she did love fiercely. She loved to start a conversation through a seating chart. She loved to exert a silent force. She loved to watch an idea spread and know that it was her who put it there- the paltry girl in the corner who no one would think anything of.

And in the darkest, vile trenches of her being she loved that a wolf fell to the bite of a coyote.

“Remember when you found me in the desert? I was weak. You saved me. You took away the pain,” her voice courses, eyes over Tavina's steady now.

“I wish I could take away your’s.”