Bramblepoint old wounds

couldn't help myself

The silence settled between them, heavy as the weight of snow. The wind curled around them, threading through trees, but she did not move, nor did she waver.
Endurance is what they were. And now, more than ever, she had nothing to hold. Her gaze traced the horizon, where the sky stretched vast and unbroken, where the land knew neither mercy nor regret. Belonging. The word settled on her tongue, strange and unfamiliar, as something she had once known and lost, out of reach. Did she truly belong somewhere?
„I have endured,” she began, sharp, edged in frost, „And I will again. But I do not mistake endurance for belonging,” a pause, measured, deliberate. Then, softer: „Not anymore.”
Turquoise gaze flickered to Solharr then, seeking, searching, „You say nothing lasts forever,” she echoed, and though the word were quiet, they held the weight of something long-carried, long-buried: „Then tell me; what makes this different?”
Aneira did not step forward, but did not turn away. She accepted his presence closer, and for the first time, there was something in her voice that was not resistance, nor dismissal; only a quiet, lingering question.