[1] WEEPING MONK // you're not what I was looking for

37| To Break Is To Heal {Part Four}

[TW// retrospective childhood trauma, fire, religious fanaticism/abuse, moderate angst, character death, blood and injury, moderate anxiety and panic. Referenced past self-harm]

Lancelot relives his past in the world of the Between.

She walked him just to the edge of the forest before the tents began, almost where they had stood a couple of nights prior, though this night would likely not end with such a similar passion. They could hear the celebrations still going on even though the moon was high above them. It was two nights since Ari was last completely alone with him in this way. She was comfortable but she could feel some kind of nervousness coming from him through his palm where his hand was clasped in hers, their fingers lacing by their sides. She hadn't realised that she was doing it, using her power as they walked in this way. It was too dark for anybody to probably see them and she doubted that there would be anybody in the forest this late anyway when the gathering was apparently still bustling.

He squeezed her hand enough to get her attention in the twilight darkness. He had not intended for this to happen tonight, he had no idea of what the Moon Wing was wanting of him. Her bright yet tiring eyes came up to him at the gesture, and the way that she looked at him with such kindness as if she had not just witnessed the monsters that lurked in his mind and memory made him feel like he was the least deserving man to be holding her hand like this.

"I ruined your evening," he said quietly, somewhat of an ashamed apology.

"You did no such thing," Ari quickly yet softly rejected the idea from his mind, stepping closer to him and squeezing his hand in return, "I am always here for you Lance, whether we are celebrating or dealing with whatever is going on, I am here."

Always, his mind ran over the word. How could she sound so sure? She was a summer's day but not like one you might expect. Ari was not a day from the height of the season but rather the end, where the heat was not too much to burn but right enough to warm you through. And at night, when the temperature dropped and yet the comfort of warmth was still there, that was her. This is the summer's day which she was.