Herbalists' Cache futurama

star eater leans into her, pressing her face to the curve of gjalla’s neck, letting the warmth of her linger. breathing her in like salvation. like home. the ache inside her is old and greedy—it has gnawed at her since girlhood, since those first silent prayers to have someone, anyone, who might stay. and gjalla... gjalla had always stayed.
thank you, she whispers, and it tastes like more than words. like devotion, like grief, like guilt curled inside the marrow of her bones. truly, gjalla. i— her throat tightens, sharp and sore. you deserve so much better than me. it is a confession, a truth she’s carried silently for moons, maybe forever. better than all this. better than... blackfell.
her lips twitch as she speaks his name, bitter and regretful, tasting the wrongness of it. how many times had she promised herself she would not be selfish? that she would not cling to gjalla so tightly, not wrap her up in the chaos of her own unraveling? and yet, here she is. here they are.
but i can't help it, she breathes, barely audible. i am selfish. i want you with me. i always have.
her gaze lifts, searching gjalla's with something tender and worn and desperate.if you will come... then come. and when they are born, i will name a girl after the stars, a soft, sad smile, fragile as snow. so they may always know what loyalty looks like.