Firefly Glen yomblod

us? us! how many times did i beg you to love me? how many times did you turn your back? us!
but nothing mattered. her anger didn't matter. his sorrow didn't matter. even the utterance of the one thing she had ever wanted from anselm, some show of unified understanding, some sort of care — even that at last given to her was a bitter mote.
offered too late. eaten too late. 
did he think this was her choice?
of course he didn't. 
the break in his voice; the crack in his words; skaigona could not help the way she reacted to it, how her own tears came again and she tilted her head toward the warm skies, existing beneath the dome of sunny pleasure even as her own soul crumbled inside herself.
"love them. just love them as much as you have, anselm. just keep doing that."
us. she might take that with her.
"don't let them wonder. don't let them wait for me. tell them." it was one mercy done for her in the years of praimfaya, no staring at the horizon in wait for a mother who would never come back.
shoulders trembling, skaigona begged silently for him to walk away, to say no more, to present no fight to what had been and what would be.
i love you so much, sent out of her body on an exhale of breath which stilled the tremor and quieted for now her own grief.