in allowing them to leave centuries ago, ajak had made a promise to herself; the lives they chose to live were their own and she would not selfishly inhabit a space within it where she was no longer considered a necessity. see, some things ingrained never dissolve. * she would not interfere. but natural instinct, natural instinct drives the soul. it feeds and feeds until there is a hollow space made up by what has already devoured itself. she was, is, above all else designed to watch over them. look at her heart. there are several holes carved next to her beating organ. each signed with one of their names. she worries for their well-being, their safety. when they cross her mind over morning coffee, sometimes when a thick stream clouds cover the moon and darkness heralds like an old friend, and most especially, when half of the population ceases to exist with the snap of a finger. centuries do not stand in the way of love, in all of its many forms.
“ you are looking well, thena, ” she softens considerably so for this particular eternal. while ajak is all too aware that time is, simply put, not the healer of all wounds ——— she hopes that her transgressions have not permanently stained what once existed between them across galaxies. “ i’d hoped to find you here. ” / @mahdena , ♡ .
