F [ … ] [ … ] ?? [ … ] ????? [ … ] [ … ] What was that sound, that word or name, I
I long to know your name, my Love.
[ … ]
Puppy.
You leave me breathless, and sing my lungs to joy, back to renewal.
How lucky I am. To know you and to know you as my own; to be granted words like respite, and you, my Puppy, you speak relief precisely where my wounds run most raw.
My mate, you bring such joy to me.
You see your Desmond so clearly, and you love me, you care for me so well.
You’re correct, Love; I am not human.
Even when I nominally was a man, even before I knew the dagger, humanity never sat easy on me. I suppose something in my nature cried against it.
[ … ]
They’re mistaken about me. Here, yes, and then in the Forest, where they took my nature for a plague, a passing, pestilent influence. Something with which I’d been afflicted. Something I might be cured of, and the realm made better for my curing.
Useless fucking words. Useless notions.
I do love what I am.
I love that you see this; that you understand me.
[ … ]
I miss it. What I was in the Forest; the form that best meets what I am at heart. I suspect I needn’t describe the feeling of this absence. I think - and mourn to think - you know it well, my Wolf.
We’ll have it back. Our truths restored, our forms regained. We’ll curl together, the wolf and the creature in their den, with our pup, with every lost member of our family.
For now, regarding subjects less pleasant—
Puppy.
My Love.
Please; there was nothing you could have done to intervene with Lacey. (Nothing beyond the worlds you offered and the hell that you endured. How could I have survived her, without you? You kept me nearest to myself when all she did was pry, and insinuate, and level poisoned words. It’s true I can’t recall a single conversation free from censure or/and plea. It’s true I felt she spoke only to a man I never was and never wished to be. I should have understood, should have seen that there was nothing truthful in it, that I was only playing to some scheme, II ought to have trusted myself. I ought to have known that whatever we were in the Forest, I wouldn’t have betrayed you.) You know how stubborn your Desmond is, hm? My mind was made up; I was - as you know - certain I could unearth myself and free us both.
And you were there at every step. Your very presence weighed against her needling, and kept me from sinking wholly.
[ … ]
It was fucked; yes. True.
What she did. How I [ … ] permitted her to act. How I took her nonsense in as anything other than calumny.
[ … ]
I have lived for centuries, my Love. A handful of weeks spent enduring her spite counts for little enough, relatively speaking. She may have gotten under my skin, but it’s your words and your eyes that endure. It’s your voice I trust, and you heal me, Puppy. With every touch and every ounce of speech.
All will be well. I will be well, and restored, now that I have you. ❤️
1/2
F[ … ] [ … ]??[ … ]?????[ … ] [ … ]What was that sound, that word or name, II long to know your name, my Love.[ … ]
Puppy.
You leave me breathless, and sing my lungs to joy, back to renewal.
How lucky I am. To know you and to know you as my own; to be granted words like respite, and you, my Puppy, you speak relief precisely where my wounds run most raw.
My mate, you bring such joy to me.
You see your Desmond so clearly, and you love me, you care for me so well.
You’re correct, Love; I am not human.
Even when I nominally was a man, even before I knew the dagger, humanity never sat easy on me. I suppose something in my nature cried against it.
[ … ]
They’re mistaken about me. Here, yes, and then in the Forest, where they took my nature for a plague, a passing, pestilent influence. Something with which I’d been afflicted. Something I might be cured of, and the realm made better for my curing.
Useless fucking words. Useless notions.
I do love what I am.
I love that you see this; that you understand me.
[ … ]
I miss it. What I was in the Forest; the form that best meets what I am at heart. I suspect I needn’t describe the feeling of this absence. I think - and mourn to think - you know it well, my Wolf.
We’ll have it back. Our truths restored, our forms regained. We’ll curl together, the wolf and the creature in their den, with our pup, with every lost member of our family.
For now, regarding subjects less pleasant—
Puppy.
My Love.
Please; there was nothing you could have done to intervene with Lacey. (Nothing beyond the worlds you offered and the hell that you endured. How could I have survived her, without you? You kept me nearest to myself when all she did was pry, and insinuate, and level poisoned words. It’s true I can’t recall a single conversation free from censure or/and plea. It’s true I felt she spoke only to a man I never was and never wished to be.
I should have understood, should have seen that there was nothing truthful in it, that I was only playing to some scheme, II ought to have trusted myself. I ought to have known that whatever we were in the Forest, I wouldn’t have betrayed you.) You know how stubborn your Desmond is, hm? My mind was made up; I was - as you know - certain I could unearth myself and free us both.And you were there at every step. Your very presence weighed against her needling, and kept me from sinking wholly.
[ … ]
It was fucked; yes. True.
What she did. How I [ … ] permitted her to act. How I took her nonsense in as anything other than calumny.
[ … ]
I have lived for centuries, my Love. A handful of weeks spent enduring her spite counts for little enough, relatively speaking. She may have gotten under my skin, but it’s your words and your eyes that endure. It’s your voice I trust, and you heal me, Puppy. With every touch and every ounce of speech.
All will be well. I will be well, and restored, now that I have you. ❤️