Duskfire Glacier deep down, you hide a reason for shame

she doesn’t speak. not when he comes close—not when she feels the tremble of his breath against her neck, or the way his weight folds into her like grief incarnate. not when her chest aches with what isn’t being said.

not at all, for there is nothing to say. there’s a part of her that wants to pull away. to demand he look at her—truly look, and not with that guilt-cloaked revulsion she swears she sees flicker behind his eyes. she is not ashamed of her wounds. but he…

he makes her feel as though she should be, but her love for him is a long, terrible thing. like winter. unforgiving, unrelenting, permanent. so instead, she leans back into him. folds herself against him with all the tenderness she has left.