KHIONIYA  it aches. ( of course it does. you knew better. ) capability equals responsibility; a harbinger's return to the nest is a matter of touch & go. she makes it so.         pale fingers thread through copper that gleams gold. "wait." she & the gears of the world that turn in perpetuum.

it is the only part of him looked at closely; beautiful hair that has changed the least over the years. that little body has grown to be taller ( still little to her ) - yet more is expected of it. a thing to be nurtured, cradled gently in her palm- sent out to war.         it bleeds so easily. & that is not all:      it freezes easily, tears easily, drowns easily, starves easily, loses & loses & loses parts of itself so easily-

why then is it so hard for her to part with any piece of him?

"jashenka." they are so much less weak. he throws himself into the maelstrom where no certainty exists except loss. he, little one- the littlest thing / reared by her.       for war. ( for love. ) for the love that goes to war, & now she wishes she'd kept him all to herself; a child as it should have been.

that oversight feels like such folly now even though it were the last real part of that old conviction. the only one that will-( would )-not waver.

the world is white, outside. it is also the world: where jashenka- what her people stalk into to be killed by. ( & he is stronger than most; & she is weaker than most. will he stop loving her, if it proves he'll have to make her keep this promise? little boy. & he'll do it, too. ) she wishes to turn away from the windows. from that finality that breeds anxiety - "come," but it is huskier than a command. something thickens her voice & begs to be forgiven for that- "just for a little while longer."

minutes are little lifetimes when spent with mortals. it's a quiet truth that can pin her to a single moment / root her to a spot so small that when it encompasses her entirely, she gets to select exactly what becomes the whole world instead. would that he'd let her have a few more, instead of striding so readily toward the doom she spells out for him.        how vain it is to weaken like this        when she has already made him promise.