Title: Eclipse
Author: silverthorned
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, creator.
Category: Willow/Tara
Summary: What she misses most.
*
She lies in bed, so early in the morning the sun is but a sliver
of light at the bottom of the blinds. The night has not seen her
sleep and her red-rimmed eyes watch the creeping light. She
rarely blinks, and when she does, she thinks she can hear the rasp
her eyelids make, dragging down her dry eyes.
She remembers a morning like this, when the light came from behind
and over her head, instead of across the room. When the sheets
were soft and warm and the glow of the early morning sun was
golden liquid flowing like syrup through the slats. It woke her
gently, leisurely.
She'd opened her eyes, relishing the feel of being warm and the
easy drowsiness that held her still. She'd felt a soft weight on
her stomach and lifted her head to see what it was.
Her breath was steady, strong and warm, and her brown sugar hair,
laced with buttery highlights, drifted silkily against cotton and
skin. She was still asleep. Tara. Her lover, her friend, her
soul, sleeping, trusting.
A watery sheen had softened the redhead's eyes and she'd smiled
shakily. She'd reached out, a slender hand reaching for that hair
and reverently caressed her lover's head. Her hair was silk
between her fingers and she'd prayed that Tara wouldn't wake up,
so she could worship the sacredness of the moment.
She'd felt her heart tear in that moment, tear and reform around a
love that she'd never felt before. It became an ache that
blossomed and crept into every corner of her soul and she had
known what true love was, an addiction, a craving, a desire to
give everything over to one person, regardless the loss, trusting
in her love.
She'd held her breath, not even realizing, until a breathy sigh
from Tara reached her ears. She'd nestled closer, her hand
drifting up to clasp Willow's waist. Tara had opened her eyes
then, hazel pools, free of trouble, still cloudy with dreams and
Willow released her breath in a rush. Tara had smiled at her
sleepily.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Tara had closed her eyes.
Willow had whispered, "I love you."
A murmur came back to her, "Too."
Willow'd stayed awake, marvelling at love and the morning sun.
She wonders what happened, when her love had lost its innocence,
when she'd let devotion become possessiveness, when giving had
become grasping. Her bed is so lonely now, cold and unforgiving
in its emptiness. Gone is Tara's sweet, lush body, her warm
breath, her eyes, dreamy with visions she could not see.
She closes her eyes, shutting out the sunlight and turns onto her
side, her copper hair fanning out on the pillow beneath her head.
She pulls the matching pillow close to her, clutching it
desperately, feeling its coolness soothing her burning eyes, but
not her heart.
End.
Author: silverthorned
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, creator.
Category: Willow/Tara
Summary: What she misses most.
*
She lies in bed, so early in the morning the sun is but a sliver
of light at the bottom of the blinds. The night has not seen her
sleep and her red-rimmed eyes watch the creeping light. She
rarely blinks, and when she does, she thinks she can hear the rasp
her eyelids make, dragging down her dry eyes.
She remembers a morning like this, when the light came from behind
and over her head, instead of across the room. When the sheets
were soft and warm and the glow of the early morning sun was
golden liquid flowing like syrup through the slats. It woke her
gently, leisurely.
She'd opened her eyes, relishing the feel of being warm and the
easy drowsiness that held her still. She'd felt a soft weight on
her stomach and lifted her head to see what it was.
Her breath was steady, strong and warm, and her brown sugar hair,
laced with buttery highlights, drifted silkily against cotton and
skin. She was still asleep. Tara. Her lover, her friend, her
soul, sleeping, trusting.
A watery sheen had softened the redhead's eyes and she'd smiled
shakily. She'd reached out, a slender hand reaching for that hair
and reverently caressed her lover's head. Her hair was silk
between her fingers and she'd prayed that Tara wouldn't wake up,
so she could worship the sacredness of the moment.
She'd felt her heart tear in that moment, tear and reform around a
love that she'd never felt before. It became an ache that
blossomed and crept into every corner of her soul and she had
known what true love was, an addiction, a craving, a desire to
give everything over to one person, regardless the loss, trusting
in her love.
She'd held her breath, not even realizing, until a breathy sigh
from Tara reached her ears. She'd nestled closer, her hand
drifting up to clasp Willow's waist. Tara had opened her eyes
then, hazel pools, free of trouble, still cloudy with dreams and
Willow released her breath in a rush. Tara had smiled at her
sleepily.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Tara had closed her eyes.
Willow had whispered, "I love you."
A murmur came back to her, "Too."
Willow'd stayed awake, marvelling at love and the morning sun.
She wonders what happened, when her love had lost its innocence,
when she'd let devotion become possessiveness, when giving had
become grasping. Her bed is so lonely now, cold and unforgiving
in its emptiness. Gone is Tara's sweet, lush body, her warm
breath, her eyes, dreamy with visions she could not see.
She closes her eyes, shutting out the sunlight and turns onto her
side, her copper hair fanning out on the pillow beneath her head.
She pulls the matching pillow close to her, clutching it
desperately, feeling its coolness soothing her burning eyes, but
not her heart.
End.