Herbalists' Cache supposed to be on stage, but fuck it, i need a minute

she does not speak as he follows, nor does she acknowledge the victory in it, for this was not a battle won. this was something else—something more fragile, uncertain. a truce, perhaps. the clouds breaking between a storm.

her touch lingers, just barely, as she guides him forward. nose brushing along his shoulder before falling away. she can feel his gaze on her, tracing over her like he is searching for something. maybe she is doing the same. looking for the man she feels such love affection for,
buried beneath all that dried blood and weary anger. 

the water is close now. the sound of it reaches them first, a steady murmur against the night. she slows, tossing him a side-long glance before she steps in, coaxing him to follow. the chill bites at her ankles, then her hocks, and stops at her stomach as she turns around to him.

"let me," let me help you, as you helped me. an invitation she is not sure he will take. she is offering something in the only way she knows how.