[Of course he remembers: Yseult standing on a rock a little ways off the road, the wind pulling her hair out of her braid, she'd started talking to the ox while Darras was pushing on the cart with the man, and when Darras had kissed her on the beach she had tasted like the saltwater, and when he kissed her after the cart was free, she'd taste the same. And then the fire, in the night, painted bright against the sky. Everyone's faces pale under the soot, shining eyes, clasping his hands. The dawn then pink at the lining of the sky, Yseult wrapping his thigh in the cottage. She'd bit the other thigh, just a little, teeth grazed against skin. And Darras had laughed, they had both smelled of smoke and he was sore all over so she'd climbed on him once they were in bed, rubbed her fingers against his skin until he had to kiss her, ask her.]
We think of it different. [He winds another strand of her hair around his finger, gentle.] When I think about those times, I think about you. You're there.
Maybe I mix it up. Maybe I think of it all being about you 'cos I'm thinking of you.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-07-14 03:21 am (UTC)We think of it different. [He winds another strand of her hair around his finger, gentle.] When I think about those times, I think about you. You're there.
Maybe I mix it up. Maybe I think of it all being about you 'cos I'm thinking of you.