He reaches out to take her hand in his, the one that she's gesturing with. His fingers close around hers, tightly, tighter than his grip on the line. The wind sifts the other direction, ruffling the waves, pulling at strands of Yseult's hair, billowing the fishing line.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2021-11-17 03:23 am (UTC)"Let's go home."