#thinking about anya saying that and seraphina just literally gaping for words

[saintvampe]

—   𝐌.   |  IT COMES EASY, EASIER THAN BREATHING, WANTING THIS WOMAN. as if the woman were a part of her... a kidney, a liver, an artery of her beating heart. for the first time in a month, they are separate from each other, " –– A whole ocean between us," whispered against the phone's receiver. the Saint ( ! ) finds herself reclined in her lounge chair, legs propped against one arm; she shapes her nails with a black glass file and the phone sits between her shoulder, her ear; she listens to the woman on the other line and pretends... Anya is talking of her day, of the research she had completed, all those words Seraphina admires her for loving. her response comes quick as a bell –– "I've still got those papers you sent me.. I'm working through, I promise." –– and her eyes drift closed when the woman laughs, her voice a melody this woman [ this damn lovestruck woman ] commits to memory.

the static between them turns away from voices. it gives way to silence, to scratchy noise. she [ @lunaccult ] speaks again, the way she holds her words different than what the Saint is used to. her mouth goes slant as she hears: I miss you. Seraphina laughs, I miss you too, –– and the woman on the phone interrupts, speaks again: ❛ i miss you. it feels like a piece of me has been torn out. it hurts. it’s physical. ❜ and her mouth goes slack.

❝ oh, darling... ❞ like melted snow, words soft against the static air. grief swings as a strung bell, hollow and heavy in the center of her chest. loss is a swallowing tar pit, she thinks. she has been being pulled under its black for too long now. there is no need to accelerate its tug. a short breath is taken before she tries her hand: ❝ i miss you, too, i ( ... a pause, a jumbled tongue ... ) when can i see you again ? ... i think of you every day. every hour. my bed's boring without you in it. ❞