[ Clara's eyes are deep, brown pools as she focuses on Red's touch, on her kisses and her words. And then she promises, and she has to kiss her again, still clinging. It isn't the same as their kisses from before, this one is desperate and urgent, probably too sad to push things.
Right now, she doesn't care. Right now, she wants comfort, and to feel safe, and she wants to give comfort, even if she's not sure how in hell she could ever make Red feel safe. Her hands move so that she can bury them in those red curls she loves so much; she plans to stay right here as long as she can and shut out the rest. ]
( Red keeps a tight hold of her through all of that pain, all of the desperation and sadness. She'll keep whispering quiet things about how she's right here, how she won't go anywhere at all, how she's making a promsie and she'll damn well keep it.
They won't go anywhere - hell, maybe not for days. They've earned the break, and they can carry this grief together. )
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Right now, she doesn't care. Right now, she wants comfort, and to feel safe, and she wants to give comfort, even if she's not sure how in hell she could ever make Red feel safe. Her hands move so that she can bury them in those red curls she loves so much; she plans to stay right here as long as she can and shut out the rest. ]
no subject
They won't go anywhere - hell, maybe not for days. They've earned the break, and they can carry this grief together. )