Wapun Meadow and I've got one foot in the door

her presence is a blessing he doesn't deserve. an allure he shouldn't allow himself. those doe-eyes heavy lidded, welcoming in a way he cannot resist. words that soothe the ache in his chest and the void Rala had left behind. maybe you let it side beside you a while. something he'd craved but wouldn't allow himself. eyes of oak fall, staring at blood-stained hands that'd caused irreparable damage at some point in his damned life.

maybe she's right, and maybe he is denying himself something he shouldn't. but there's the ghost of Rala still in his peripheral, singing to him in a tune that wasn't as sweet. it's something to mull over while he's alone. a thought to chew on while he battles grief and guilt. "mmm. guess y'might be a blessing then, songbird. singin' to men you shouldn't." comes his heavy, tired drawl.

after a beat, he admits; "i'll be waitin' for another song."

selfishly, terribly, he hopes he's the only man she's singing too. even if he knows a spirit as free as hers would roam wherever it desires. that a voice like that sang to whomever needed it most.

fade! obsessed w/ these two.