Qeya River tu el aire que respiro yo

and now wren softens, relief shown in the way her shoulders slump. i trust you.
perhaps there was no reason for her to lie, but still! anyone would react in such a way hearing news like that, especially in the manner it had been delivered. the glow of the crystalline gaze warms her enough to calm her, and so too do the kisses that linger upon her cheeks. i just wanted to make sure, is all, she says it more to reassure herself than anything. he won't live between us. he's outside of us both now, i suppose, right?
do you love him still, silvertongue asks, and wren feels a tight knot form in her throat. i don't... know if i ever did. not the way i love you. i mean, she pauses to laugh in the way one does when they are nervous. i cared about him, yeah, but-- i think i was only convincing myself that he was anything more to me. i liked how he made me feel.
the safety, the attention. and this was a pattern; she thinks of colt. of marcus.
but when i met you, she reaches to cup the beautiful face now, a tenderness to the touch. it was so different.