i'm in the hallway waitin' for ya

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esme, on the other hand, hadn't slept almost at all. not on purpose, but because she was too afraid she had been dreaming since right before sundown the night prior. if she fell asleep and wake was not here...

no. sleep was not an option. not tonight.

and so she stayed awake, watching over her bedraggled sailor with eyes both loving and haunted. the pain that she had been living with all made sense now, as did the constant feeling that she had been missing something. she still was, but, the biggest piece had returned to fill that aching void.

the silver siren could not help the way she jumped at the suddenness of her lover's waking, yet still did not hesitate to follow her outside, concern writ plainly across her face. there was no need to ask what was wrong of if she was alright; esmerelda knew the answer. there was no doubt that all the same feelings swirled around in her own being. but together...

together, they could get through anything.

pressing close, esmerelda nuzzled the ruff of the larger woman's neck before moving to plant a reassuring kiss upon her face. “i am here, my sailor. it was not a dream,” she promised, a tired smile brightening her eyes as she sat down only to lean against wake's shoulder.
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terror was an evil thing, twisting pretty thoughts into darkness, warping comforting moments into nightmares. the worst part was that it isolated you. walled you off from those that could protect you and shield you. it left you out in the dark, cold and alone.

for wake, esmerelda would go to war with all of it. the tiny woman would fend off every last attack, challenge every single demon, whatever she had to do to keep her wife with her.

she laughed, snuggling close. “no, sadly not. where would you take me, amante?” teeth preened the fur of the sailor's chest, tasting seasalt upon her tongue, remnants of wake's arrival upon the shores of their home.
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she could have simply let wake catch her, could have only run for a few lengths and act like she'd been outrun, but where was the fun in that? the joy in that? the desire? the fire? the passion?

she ran.

she ran through the island forest until her heart pounded, until her hind brain kicked in with the adrenaline and told her body that she was running for a reason, until she tired and began to slow, breathing heavy and thick as she slowed to figure out which way to go next.
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She could not keep this pace, weaving through the trees in a delicate and flighty manner. Once or twice she would double back, taunting her lover with how close she would let her get.

Until she was paying more attention to her coy game instead of the dead end she ran into.

Whirling, Esme sought to face her captor, a fire deep in her belly and a bright flare of passion filling her chest over and over.
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