Hushed Willows [m] Take what you are, make it sacramental

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Whenever you have time! <3

With all that had happened of late, it felt as if Reverie could hardly find a moment alone with her husband. Her time was largely split between tending to Mae, comforting Blossom, and gathering the few herbs she could still find under the frost. Soon winter would be upon them, so Reverie was less careful in her harvests; she took whatever she could find, and left very little for the snow to claim. Slowly her stock of herbs was growing.

But she was exhausted. Reverie herself was still healing, and her injured leg seemed to make every activity more strenuous. She felt worn thin; crumbling, quietly. Through it all she did not complain — but it was driving her a little crazy. So when she'd finished her latest trek through the territory, a trip divided between strengthening the scent marks throughout the forest and picking through the last of its foliage, Reverie put her herbs away and sought @Boone.

The moment she laid eyes on him, a familiar fire lit in her veins. Reverie went to her husband with only a faint chuff to announce herself, and if he would let her, she kissed him fiercely. She missed this; she missed his arms around her waist, the sounds she coaxed from him when they were together, the way he held her in the aftermath.

Mature Content Warning

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He had been there — he had been ready.
Stress seemed to have swallowed him as of late, this slurry of chaos that now enveloped him and his growing little family. Careworn, exhausted, worn thin; all of it, and yet he took it in stride. He spent his days tending borders and fishing, building the foundations that would become future densites, gathering places, cache stores. He dug out paths through heavy terrain and he fussed over the two girls — his two girls.
And now here was his wife, sunglow eyes burning as her arms envelop him. He had not touched her in this way since before the incident, and oh, how horribly he had missed her—!
He is gentle and at the same time he is eager; he is as giving as he is selfish. He swallows her beneath him, teeth against skin, chests heaving, legs trembling, and he does not let her go until the flame is tempered and starlight filters in through the denmouth.

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There had been a fear in her, just for a moment, that Boone would not want her. That fear dissolved in his embrace as quickly as it had bloomed; for the first time, Reverie began to understand that she could trust him. Here they were, tired and stretched to their limits; here they were, finding comfort in one another, in the passionate twining of warm flesh and eager mouths. He reached for her as she reached for him, even now, even under all the burden she'd brought to his life. He wanted her.

There were tears in her eyes by the time their breaths had steadied and the afterglow glistened like morning dew on their skin. Her thighs threatened mutiny until she settled into her husband's embrace. She peppered soft kisses across his face. I love you, Reverie murmured, and again, and again, and then for a time she lapsed into silence. She traced the hard lines of his wrist with a delicate touch.

When the overwhelming intensity of feeling finally died some, not entirely but enough to feel bearable, she glanced at him a bit shyly. Boone... I've been wondering - well, about your life before you met me. I remember what you've told me. About the isle, and about your parents before that. But what about - the time between? Was it odd to ask this now? Reverie, in her inexperience, was uncertain — but she hoped that Boone wouldn't mind. She was intensely curious to know what sort of life had created him, this man she'd so quickly come to love and, more than anyone before him, trust. Not completely, maybe never completely (because she was broken; because that part of her might never be whole), but she had promised him forever. She'd promised him all of herself, whether he knew it or not. And it felt strange, though maybe it wasn't as strange as it felt, to be so content in the knowledge that she would never see the world as she'd once thought she would. Because of him; because he would be her world to explore.

She'd told herself otherwise, once, but time and experience had taught her: this was all she'd ever really wanted.

i love you too.
boone had paused to catch his waning breath, to pull his bedfurs lazily over her shoulder. y'need water, or anything? he'd asked, still with the husk of afterglow clinging to his voice; and in that time of relative silence where her lips met the veins within his wrist, he had simply stared at her, eyes glittering with awe. how serendipitous for him to end up with such an amazing creature to wake up beside.
my life before you, huh? his head flops over with an audible thud as his skull meets the padded denfloor. there wasn't much of one.
my parents, y'know, they, um. they died when i was real young. separate incidents. my mama got real sick. my daddy got too close to one of them damn bears. and i... didn't have no siblings, or nothin'. i guess i swallowed 'em all in the womb.
i fucked around for a while before i decided to move outta mount chesney. there were people i, y'know, stayed with off-and-on. who helped me. but i didn't stick around for long with any of 'em. or they didn't stick with me. and i just decided one day, like, there's gotta be more to life than this. so i went north. waaaaay north. took me a long, long time to get up here. and that's when i met colt n' iseul.
they were nice enough, y'know. colt wasn't, he was up to no good. kept callin' his buddies the gang. but iseul was. two rivers was this tiny, tiny li'l pack way out west in the, uh, the hinterlands. and it... it couldn't sustain itself, i guess. colt done fucked off, his buddies fucked off. iseul and her kids disappeared. and i don't know what all happened to any of 'em.
but, y'know, i... sat around for a while, and then one day, i was like... i can't just keep waitin' for people to come back for me. if they were gonna, they would've. i'm wastin' my life waitin' for shit. so i left too. and then i met you, and the rest was history.

She needed nothing but his eyes on her, filled with love, just like that, forever. Reverie shifted closer to him with a slight wince; she was always a little sore in the aftermath of their couplings, though she would never tell Boone that. She knew he tried to be gentle.

She pressed her face into his neck as he began to speak, closing her eyes to focus on the sound of his voice. The image he painted was one of impermanence, a shifting sea of false starts in a vague and noncommittal reality. It was nothing like her own life before him, but at the same time she felt she could relate. And it made more sense now, his hurt and anger after weeks of watching her flee from him again and again until the day it had almost killed her. Always waiting for those who would not return for him, and she had nearly been nothing more than another person who kept him waiting.

She wanted to tell him that she would never do that to him again, but the words stayed locked behind her lips; no sense in bringing it up again, that terrible morning which still hurt to think about, and besides, she knew that promises only went so far. Lestan had made so many of them, and what had that been worth? Nothing, in the end. So instead she lifted herself and wrapped her arms tightly around him, and laid her cheek against his. I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere.

boone felt as if someone had carved through his torso with a dull edge.
it had been so easy to love reverie and so hard to let himself be loved back. he was a giver, always reaching for something he would never hold. a family. a home. a life. a love. every attempt before had left him in ruins, scattered pieces of a whole body, missing parts that were now off in some land unknown to him.
reverie was his wife. up until now, he had never truly thought of himself as her husband. he was hers, too.
nothing else came from him save for silent, muffled sobs into her flaxen shoulder and the promise of however long forever was for her.