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Even now, she forgives the hunter. His blue eyes are shut, his vision flickering in silver as he hides from the sight of his failures. How had he let this happen? How, as he lies here beside the one who cares for him so, can he feel nothing but guilt?
His heavy body falls beside hers, covering sheets of white and shadow in the scatter of long black hair that twists and curls about itself. His cheek reaches for hers, matching in black, and he feels the heat of her body against the cold of the world underneath them. This is a winter he will remember: this is a winter he will have to be held accountable for something in his life--for once.
Manhattan draws closer, her silken fur brushing against her master's, her sharp blue eyes surveying the embrace on the earth. She scents exhaustion, sees the slump of Knox's shoulders, the giving up. Does he think he can lie here like this and die beside her, without consequence?
She is not angry, Manhattan has long struggled to feel such an emotion. But she knows this scene cannot stay as it is. She butts her head against Knox's broad neck, balking from Aylin's thin one as it extends. That touch, it is not meant for her.
And the hunter receives the message. They must stand, they must walk, they must go on. In the face of failure, they must persevere. "Aylin, get up," he says softly, his lids lifted, his gaze surveying the cold. "We can't stay here. Let me help you," he goes on, each word wavering as he struggles with its weight. He must guide her now, with every step, even if the journey is to be his walk of shame. Aylin is more important than his pride.
For once, someone else, someone weaker, is more important.
@[Aylin]
And I Will Laugh Until I'm Tired
I Will Battle With a Strange Desire
image creditsI Will Battle With a Strange Desire
