[ she murmurs a small thank you as she reaches for the little juice box, pursing her lips around the flimsy plastic straw as she drains the box in one go. a pinch of salt to wash the sweetness, sucking on her tongue, sticking it to the roof of her mouth.
salt to wash the wound; sweetblood to nourish. an echo of old habits, the consecration of the flesh. with her eyes falling closed she mouths along an old prayer, familiar latin but aimed a little lower.
the ache in her leg hums against her bones. she wants to reach for him. knee to floor, cheek to lap, fingers to eyes as cover. ]
no subject
[ she murmurs a small thank you as she reaches for the little juice box, pursing her lips around the flimsy plastic straw as she drains the box in one go. a pinch of salt to wash the sweetness, sucking on her tongue, sticking it to the roof of her mouth.
salt to wash the wound; sweetblood to nourish. an echo of old habits, the consecration of the flesh. with her eyes falling closed she mouths along an old prayer, familiar latin but aimed a little lower.
the ache in her leg hums against her bones. she wants to reach for him. knee to floor, cheek to lap, fingers to eyes as cover. ]
They had a kid. Pretty girl, about twelve.
Came home early from a sleepover.