I do not own The Village.
I do love it so much.
Speaking Further On Such Matters
Whispering Truths
The grief, the trauma, of her ordeal has not gone.
It will take time for them to be vanquished.
They may never truly be so.
Dark dreams awaken her, gasping breath, tear-moistened cheeks.
Visions of Lucius dead, of his color faded away forever.
Unable to see him at the window, unable to truly believe him living and breathing until she feels him so.
Leaving her bed, the house, in the middle of the night whilst all others sleep.
Barefoot padding along the well worn paths.
Counting.
. . . -seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine . . .
Until she reaches . ..
"Ivy, are you alright?"
. . . The Healing House.
Opening and closing the door so quietly.
Alerting him nonetheless.
"No. But I will be."
And careful, so careful as not to jostle him.
Easing herself onto his bed, molding herself to . . .
"You should not do this. It is not proper."
. . . his side.
His voice in her darkness does not reprimand her.
He would not, only wishes to protect her, she knows.
And yet she knows what is right.
For her.
"I need your warmth, your closeness. I need to feel you alive. To drive the evil dreams away. Would you deny me that?"
Head cradled closely next to his.
Lucius, unable to properly hold her yet.
"No."
Contenting with a kiss to her forehead.
"I would not."
And Ivy, heartbeat finally slowing.
"And besides, I have brought my own covering and I am atop yours."
Mind finally calming.
"We are separate. For a while yet."
Though Lucius is now more awake for her presence.
"Your parents will look for you."
So softly does he speak to her.
"If they know of me at all, they will know where to find me."
And she . . .
"No more talk just now. Let us rest and revive our spirits."
. . . to him.
"Ivy, it is not proper."
She hears his worry in his voice.
Knows . . .
"You have not yet been wedded."
. . . what may be thought.
And knows . . .
"I do not have worry of that, Papa. I need his presence to reassure my spirit."
. . . it is of little consequence to her.
But her father . . .
"People will talk, Ivy. They will whisper falsehoods."
. . . still worries.
She places a strengthening hand upon her father's.
"And you will whisper back the truth, Papa."
Reminds him of the truths between them.
"Will you not?"
Allows him his disgruntled silence of her choices.
For she can see his color, the faintest glow of it.
Knowing, in part, that it brightens for her.
And knowing . . .
"Yes. I will."
. . . it always will.
"Thank you, Papa."
"You are welcome, daughter."
Another little blip. Hope you enjoyed.
Thanks to DinahRay for being so kind, coming back. :)