'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
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♱
'Since then I have pretended ease, loved with the trickeries of need, but not enough to shed my daughterhood or sweeten him as a man. I drink the five o' clock martinis and poke at this dry page like a rough goat. Fool! I fumble my lost childhood for a mother and lounge in sad stuff with love to catch and catch as catch can.
And Christ still waits. I have tried to exorcise the memory of each event and remain still, a mixed child, heavy with cloths of you. Sweet witch, you are my worried guide.
Such dangerous angels walk through Lent. For all the way I've come I'll have to go again. Instead, I must convert to love as reasonable as Latin, as sold as earthenware: an equilibrium I never knew. And Lent will keep its hurt for someone else. Christ knows enough staunch guys have hitched him in trouble. thinking his sticks were badges to wear. '
Funnily enough, life does get better if you wish it. Maybe not just by wishing it, Hera always considered that a myopic way of thinking. But it had gotten better for her and seemed as though it would continue to do so. God had more in store for her than she could even imagine, and Hera regretted how long she'd spent telling herself otherwise. Hera had stripped herself of any semblance of power though it had been her birthright — magic quite literally flowing through her veins. She'd made it this far and loved being alive. How couldn't she?
Hera began, idly withdrawn though something inside of her couldn't help smiling. "I had to talk to you, " She'd missed their secret meetings, much like this one.
Sirius regarded her curiously — eyes narrowed at her expression, slinking down on the settee. She joined him, a sea of possibilities telling her not to get too close until she had her answer.
Regardless, she found a level of comfort in Sirius draping himself over her, dropping his arm from the back of her head to her shoulder and drawing small circles in her skin as had become their usual.
"Tell me, " His voice sounded muffled against her body.
Hera had given little to no thought as to how she and Sirius were supposed to act around others in their relationship. It was fairly new, but it felt so natural that it didn't seem to matter in how she acted.
