#mosthonourablewolf

The closing of her trunk permeated the quiet Spring day, a gentle breeze mingling with birds chirping, an aura of peace mingling in the air. Except, Emma was feeling anything but. Her hands were full, each one gripped the sides of a box. In fact, the last box. This was the last box of things that he had left to move into Graham’s apartment. And after this box carried the threshold...it would be official. She would have officially moved in with him.

Terrified didn’t quite describe the feeling.

It’s not that she thought it was a bad idea, and it’s not that she didn’t want to move in with him. Quite the opposite, actually. This was one of the things in her life she was more sure of. And that fact alone was what was terrifying. The fact that Emma was so sure about him, about a man (but oh, he was so much more than that), about being with someone...it was uncharacteristic of her, considering all of the past failures of her love life. It was strange, uncharted territory. Comfortingly enough, she knew that Graham was feeling the same way. Which made her feel a little bit better.

Steeling her courage, she stepped into the building and up the steps to his--their apartment, fishing the newly minted key out of her pocket and unlocking the door. She turned the knob and pushed it open with her boot, stepping in and setting the box with the others. There wasn’t much; only three boxes of stuff and a suitcase of clothes. The woman never had much, just enough that it wouldn’t be a pain in the ass to pack up and leave at a moment’s notice. A behavioral remnant of being an orphan, and later of being a woman that ran. But no more.

F f f f. Darling, but of course you're worthy! If anything, it is the other way around. You're magnificent and I adore your Snow 100%!

mosthonourablewolf

The curse had broken and the boisterous girl that was Ruby Lucas had gone with it. In its place was the shell of that confident woman, replaced by uncertainty and fear of what she was and what she had the potential to do. Without the security of her cloak, Red laid in wait for the next full moon, taken to reclusiveness when the town wasn’t in immediate peril in favor of sorting out her thoughts.

When that day’s particular aimless walk had landed her at the cemetery, she allowed her instincts to take control of her consciousness and lead her where they may. Seemingly, they had gravitated towards a particular headstone, one she hadn’t visited since his passing. Graham. The Huntsman.

Pressing her lips together, she kneeled in front of the grave, a slow, shaky breath escaping her. Slender digits reached out to caress the cool stone and the name engraved on it, as if some miracle would occur and from the depths of the earth he would climb to encircle her in a warm, reassuring embrace that she so desperately needed. But there was nothing, only the dulcet sounds of chirping birds mingling with the scattering of small animals, who had taken off when the scent of a predator had reached attentive noses.