[ it doesn't matter how silena looks, if she's got a huge scar on her face or the blessing of aphrodite illuminating her every feature -- clarisse knows nothing of beauty, but silena has always embodied it, still embodies it even now, because nothing, no one could ever be more beautiful than the girl standing before her now, impossibly alive but radiant, breathtaking nonetheless. it doesn't matter how or why, not when the meaning of life, the answers to everything, is right beneath her fingers again. and this time -- this time -- she won't be so stupid as to let that slip through her grasp again. how could she ever think a chariot, her pride, was more important than silena? than the war? ]
[ if you won't do it for them, do it for me. please, clarisse. ]
[ but they wouldn't be standing here if clarisse had agreed, if she'd just let it go and listened, instead of letting her pride, her hubris blind her, break her. a fatal flaw, they call it, but it hadn't been truly fatal for anyone but silena. some part of clarisse died with her, left an emptiness that could never be filled, not with grief or rage -- only now does she feel complete again, overcome with emotion that silena is here and real and hers once more. her other hand settles on the curve of silena's neck, firm but gentle, keeping her rooted, keeping her looking. clarisse never wants to stop looking, never should have. ]
[ with a tilt of her head, clarisse leans in, lips fit together as though they were born of the same being, finally coming together, two parts of a whole, and all clarisse feels underneath her is the humming energy of life, the brightness of silena's radiance almost blinding -- even with her eyes closed, clarisse can see everything, feel everything: the warmth of silena's lips, her breath, the outline of her mouth; and never before has she felt this enlightened, as if she truly is in the presence of a god, intoxicating herself on the precious nectar silena offers her. she could stay in this moment forever, but like all good things, they aren't meant to last. ]
Stop. [ it isn't harshly said, but there's an authority in her voice that wasn't there before. she doesn't want to hear the shoulds and shouldn'ts, the apologies -- shouldn't she be the one apologizing? i'm sorry i didn't listen, i'm sorry i was too late, i'm sorry i let you go -- the only thing she wants is silena, silena, silena. ]
[ she presses her forehead to silena's, like two magnets connecting, always meant to be together, her eyes squeezing shut to hold her tears back. daughters of ares don't cry (but they do; only last time one daughter of aphrodite wasn't there to dry them). ] Stop it. [ her voice is choked, her grip firmer than it was before. her eyes are strained when they open, her gaze steadfast despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. ] I don't care what happened. It doesn't matter. We were both -- stupid. But I won't let it happen again, I promise you that. I swear it on the Styx. I won't let you go. Not this time.
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[ if you won't do it for them, do it for me. please, clarisse. ]
[ but they wouldn't be standing here if clarisse had agreed, if she'd just let it go and listened, instead of letting her pride, her hubris blind her, break her. a fatal flaw, they call it, but it hadn't been truly fatal for anyone but silena. some part of clarisse died with her, left an emptiness that could never be filled, not with grief or rage -- only now does she feel complete again, overcome with emotion that silena is here and real and hers once more. her other hand settles on the curve of silena's neck, firm but gentle, keeping her rooted, keeping her looking. clarisse never wants to stop looking, never should have. ]
[ with a tilt of her head, clarisse leans in, lips fit together as though they were born of the same being, finally coming together, two parts of a whole, and all clarisse feels underneath her is the humming energy of life, the brightness of silena's radiance almost blinding -- even with her eyes closed, clarisse can see everything, feel everything: the warmth of silena's lips, her breath, the outline of her mouth; and never before has she felt this enlightened, as if she truly is in the presence of a god, intoxicating herself on the precious nectar silena offers her. she could stay in this moment forever, but like all good things, they aren't meant to last. ]
Stop. [ it isn't harshly said, but there's an authority in her voice that wasn't there before. she doesn't want to hear the shoulds and shouldn'ts, the apologies -- shouldn't she be the one apologizing? i'm sorry i didn't listen, i'm sorry i was too late, i'm sorry i let you go -- the only thing she wants is silena, silena, silena. ]
[ she presses her forehead to silena's, like two magnets connecting, always meant to be together, her eyes squeezing shut to hold her tears back. daughters of ares don't cry (but they do; only last time one daughter of aphrodite wasn't there to dry them). ] Stop it. [ her voice is choked, her grip firmer than it was before. her eyes are strained when they open, her gaze steadfast despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. ] I don't care what happened. It doesn't matter. We were both -- stupid. But I won't let it happen again, I promise you that. I swear it on the Styx. I won't let you go. Not this time.