[she hears him, loud and clear, all these things that he does to fill his time with some sense of purpose. noise to keep the very real tension from piling onto him, the fact that this is not where he should be.
because clint has a family, a home. someone to return to.
wanda's expression pinches for a moment and she looks up, the sky a hazy blue today. it might rain at night. abraxas is perfect for those who have nothing to return to, for those who like a small mystery; it has become a home for her becauseβ because here she has what she will never have back home. her pain is temporary, set right like a balm by the presence of others who don't know of the wrongs she's done.
(βdoes clint know?)
she leads the way to the back of the farmhouse; this isn't a house tour, she knows. there's a bench against the wall that she likes to sit on, look over at the trees that border the farm. all sorts of greens on their leaves, a couple of bright yellows amidst the verdant sea.
he can't stay here.]
There are ways of getting back, but I've not known of anyone who's done it willingly. The Summoning ritual gone amiss, maybe the will of the Old Gods if you'll believe that. [she sniffs, pausing, turns her gaze down toward her feet. baited breath β there's one reason clint would be less put off about staying here against his will, and she chews on it for a moment, long enough to let the silence sit between them. until there's no point in keeping it a secret. faint, wistful, knowing how much it'd rock himβ] Nat's here, in Thorne. Alive.
no subject
because clint has a family, a home. someone to return to.
wanda's expression pinches for a moment and she looks up, the sky a hazy blue today. it might rain at night. abraxas is perfect for those who have nothing to return to, for those who like a small mystery; it has become a home for her becauseβ because here she has what she will never have back home. her pain is temporary, set right like a balm by the presence of others who don't know of the wrongs she's done.
(βdoes clint know?)
she leads the way to the back of the farmhouse; this isn't a house tour, she knows. there's a bench against the wall that she likes to sit on, look over at the trees that border the farm. all sorts of greens on their leaves, a couple of bright yellows amidst the verdant sea.
he can't stay here.]
There are ways of getting back, but I've not known of anyone who's done it willingly. The Summoning ritual gone amiss, maybe the will of the Old Gods if you'll believe that. [she sniffs, pausing, turns her gaze down toward her feet. baited breath β there's one reason clint would be less put off about staying here against his will, and she chews on it for a moment, long enough to let the silence sit between them. until there's no point in keeping it a secret. faint, wistful, knowing how much it'd rock himβ] Nat's here, in Thorne. Alive.