Page 53 of To Free a Soul
“Of course.” He waved his hand and a flat disc formed above his clawed fingers. It grew in size, and within seconds, both were able to look upon their serpent offspring with ease.
“Are you telling me that you’ve been able to do that the entire time and just never have?” Her disgruntled tone informed him he’d probably fucked up.
“You have never asked before,” he retorted blandly, as it was obvious.
Nathair was bundled up in his tail, probably napping or whatever it was he did in there. When Weldir looked at Lindiwe once more, her full lips were tight, her arms were folded, and her glare was sharp. Guilt trickled through Weldir’s mist.
“You ask about him often. I should have realised you’d want to see him, even if it’s from a distance.”
A sigh flittered out as she loosened her arms. “I guess that’ll do.” Then she pushed her journal to the side so she could lean closer to the disc. A small smile curled her lips and crinkled the sides of her eyes. “Look at him. He’s gotten so much bigger in Tenebris.”
“He consumed a few souls many years ago and it strengthened him.” He’d been good, otherwise. He’d adhered to his promise to not eat any more of Weldir’s souls.
She reached out and ghosted her fingertips right against where Nathair was, as liquid dotted her long, fanning eyelashes. Her smile only seemed to grow, while the affection in her mesmerising eyes deepened. Weldir was used to seeing that expression.
Never at him, but she’d worn it many times over the years for their offspring.
She looks the loveliest when she wears that expression.
It was utter softness. Contentment radiated from her, as did a tenderness that often sparked Weldir’s longing.
He didn’t know when he’d begun wanting her to look upon him similarly, only that it sat like a thickness within his mist. He wanted her to not only look at him fondly, but also in a deeper way that he doubted he’d ever understand the full weight of,even once he achieved it. If only those eyes would gaze at him with affection, yearning, and glisten for something more.
I don’t understand this need.What they had now should suffice.
Lindiwe no longer regarded him with disdain or disinterest, and she was willing to not only converse with him when he reached out to her through the bond, but she often instigated it. Their relationship was smooth, lacked any tension, and had become... easy.
She’d even begun spending prolonged time within his realm over the last five years since Orpheus and Katerina had met. She read over her journals, fiddled with her other artefacts, and brushed her hair, often styling it. She watched their offspring with him for long periods of time and even slept here on many occasions.
This was all he’d originally wanted. Unity.
Someone to fill his void and let him know he was real beyond his prism. For their voice to fill the silence, and their presence to ease the echoing, solitary loneliness.
He had this.
So why did he wish to feel warmth, even if it was only ever in her gaze? What more could he want?
But there is something else, something I’ve been seeking, and it has been quite some time since I’ve had it.
As he looked at his mate, who was glued to the image of Nathair he’d projected, his gaze drifted. It trailed down the bridge of her nose, her full lips, her pointed chin, and then further down to her throbbing jugular. Next it dipped to the neckline of her dress, which framed her soft breasts.
He stared there for much too long.
I tire of waiting.
May 7th, 1837
When Lindiwe touched the flat magical image of Nathair, she hadn’t expected it to ripple like water. It distorted him, but it was the closest she’d been to touching him in a hundred years.
Seeing him was bittersweet, as it tore open the scars over her heart at surface level, but it also healed those wounds so much cleaner. She’d always known he was there, alive in his own way, but it was different from seeing it.
Lindiwe waited with a smile, watching the hypnotic rainbows gleaming over his black scales. She wanted to see his skull, hooked ram horns, and orange orbs.
The disc pulled away, yanked by some kind of force, then shrunk before it left behind a fading cloud puff.
She turned to Weldir questioningly.
“Lindiwe...” he started, drifting ever so slightly closer. “It’s been a long time.”
