Will You Accept My Love Again?

*Tahlia* · 08-10-2014, 06:54 PM

Walk | Talk
| Think

He drew closer, seeking comfort or to be comforted, but Tahlia leaned away. Her eyes clenched tightly shut, blocking the sight of his tears, his own pain, from her view. It was difficult to see him so beat up over his own actions, so sorry and seeking atonement, especially after she had laid her accusation bare before him. But what would his apologies and his requests for forgiveness mean if he cared less for her than another? What would her entire life to this point mean if she found that the man she had so wholly fallen in love with did not return the sentiments to the full extent that she did? She had not meant to cause another rift; she had simply needed to know.

He did not touch her, though she had almost expected him to, and a weighty silence preceded his answer. Friend. It was how he had described the woman then and it was how he described her now, nothing more and nothing implied. To him, at least as he explained it, Destruction was a friend suffering through a hardship. It made Tahlia feel some comfort though not by much, the doubts that had taken hold of her stubborn with their grasp. The sound of his voice as he professed to loving her was enough to bring fresh tears to her closed eyes, to bring a little of her defenses down and show outwardly and unbidden how much at conflict she was with herself. He was right, again, in his own way. He had proven his love to her time and again through physical means, but, she thought, he had also proven his anger, and she was so afraid of which might win out in the end.

She could hear the confusion he felt within his voice, the hurt and the disbelief, and of course it made her feel worse. Upsetting him had never been her goal, not even when a part of her, the prideful, vengeful part, claimed he deserved it for her humiliation, for her three days of doubt and loneliness. An apology was there on the tip of her tongue, ready to be said for having even asked, but she held back, listening as his final question was followed up with soft steps toward her and the sense that he was close enough to touch. Tahlia tensed, quiet and still, with worry and uncertainty still about her face, and shivered when his muzzle passed against her cheek to whisper into her ear a fact that she had never known, a private fear that had always been on her mind during their forced separation. Her husband had been given the perfect opportunity for infidelity, where no one would have known and with the very woman that she was accusing him of harboring feelings for, and he had denied it.

It was almost too much to believe. She had been nervous about it from the start, that somehow Bane's habits from before their marriage might resurface if given the chance, and she had feared during that time that something would happen. But nothing had, even though it could have. She felt suddenly shameful for thinking that he might be capable of it, for doubting his love for her, and with a sob she turned her face into his neck, pressing close against him as she finally cried freely. "I was so afraid," she said through her tears when at last her voice was within her control again, "that you loved her, that you loved me less. That I might have lost you." She nuzzled him roughly, tucking herself against him. "I never want to feel that again."

Tahlia nuzzled the greying male again, turning her head to kiss his cheek, his jaw, to trail them softly all the way to his lips. She drew back then, just enough so that her single seeing, golden eye could meet his blue one, and poured her adoration, her desperation, her desire, into the look. "I love you," she told him, quietly and simply, "so much." But, as often seemed to be the case, words were hardly adequate. Mimicking him, her muzzle moved across his cheek in a soft caress and traveled up to his ear to ask, "Let me show you. Please."

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