"We'll see," she says, the closest thing to an argument Harrow finds she can come to right now. Her fingers keep combing through Gideon's hair, her other hand still resting on the other girl's chest. She watches the light and shadow play over Gideon's face, taking note of each soft, reflexive flutter of her eyelids as she lies with her head in Harrow's lap. They don't deserve this peace, this softness--neither of them were raised to it, neither of them taught how to extend it to each other--but they have it now.
It's a gift Harrow can't make herself reject, and the greediness of that shames her.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-09-14 09:04 pm (UTC)It's a gift Harrow can't make herself reject, and the greediness of that shames her.