[ Like a ball dropped from a tree, or the matter that will make up a star, Alexandrie obeys his law of gravity: the moment Loki opens a space closer to himself with the wrap of his arm around her she is shifting into it, wriggling a little until she is tucked against him and letting one of her hands settle over his.
She is watching something made, watching something unmade; darkness turning to light and back again, darker than before there was nothing. Already it weaves itself into allegories for her— she cannot help the way her mind connects the things she learns— and she feels a little less alone, knowing even time and space can be broken by the loss of something beautiful and bright. ]
no subject
She is watching something made, watching something unmade; darkness turning to light and back again, darker than before there was nothing. Already it weaves itself into allegories for her— she cannot help the way her mind connects the things she learns— and she feels a little less alone, knowing even time and space can be broken by the loss of something beautiful and bright. ]
Only sometimes?