Firefly Glen [PHE] sofon

i washed them probably wasn't the answer his mother had been looking for ... but it was the truth. still, he did not feel inclined to share whether he washed them in a murky mud puddle or a spring creek and thankfully, she didn't ask.

just ask; is the words she uses as she touches his face before her touch falls away. just asking didn't sound half as fun as stealing, if ezra was being honest. it wasn't right ... and for one that idolized justice as much as he subconsciously did, it went against the pillar that had always stood holy within his heart.

but justice, he'd argue wasn't always so black and white. good or bad. it was justice. a sip of wine from the holy grail, a healing shroud or an executioners sword.

ok. he doesn't push her, seeing the exhaustion in the soft lines of her face that he selfishly hadn't noticed before. so singular in his search for his father and brother he'd missed the earlier signs that her energy was waning. guilt gnaws at him now like a starving stray; biting past flesh and ribcage straight to his heart.

i'll be back with food soon. he promises, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.