She nods, realizing they were hardly the first couple to have had problems that were out of their control. For Rose it’s more that she’s not sure what to call what they had. There isn’t a label that exists in the english language that isn’t lacking in some way. He brought a balance she was lacking. Made her be a better person. He put her first when it went against everything they believed in. He saw her, when everyone around her saw what they wanted, what was easier to accept rather than what lay beneath.
“We were together in all the ways that counted.” She wouldn’t ever minimise what they had because of the complications, if anything it had made them stronger. They spent so long trying not to be together, because of duty, because of expectations, because of what their society would say and it hadn’t been enough. His own family had treated her like she was his wife when she’d gone to tell them what had happened, because in their eyes? She was. In every way that mattered.
Her gaze falls to the hand that rests on her arm, but she doesn’t try to shake it off. Still, she can’t quite bring herself to respond to his touch either, needing to keep some kind of emotional shield in place in order to tell him her story. His story. She nods at his questions, allowing herself a moment of silence until the tightness in her throat can ease. Rose staring at a patch of blue flowers, watching their color lose their vibrancy in the fading light of the day.
“The kidnapping. The mansion full of vampires. The ghosts hating Strigoi.” They're all snippets of things she's told him and this is how they all tie together. Dimitri. “That night, when you pulled me out of the fountain?” She allows herself to look at him again, to see if he’s pieced it all together. It’s not so hard to figure out once you know they’re all connected; The bites on her neck. The fear in her eyes. Even the fact that she doesn’t have anything left to feel for a boy who died right in front of her. It would always come back to Dimitri.
“His name was Dimitri Belikov and he was the best person I’ve ever known.” Her gaze returning to that patch of faded blue flowers. There’s an almost eerie calm that surrounds her now, like the very thing she’s needed for so long, was to say the words that made that night real, to stop the endless scenarios spinning around in her head. “And the night we met was the night I drove a stake through his heart.”
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“We were together in all the ways that counted.” She wouldn’t ever minimise what they had because of the complications, if anything it had made them stronger. They spent so long trying not to be together, because of duty, because of expectations, because of what their society would say and it hadn’t been enough. His own family had treated her like she was his wife when she’d gone to tell them what had happened, because in their eyes? She was. In every way that mattered.
Her gaze falls to the hand that rests on her arm, but she doesn’t try to shake it off. Still, she can’t quite bring herself to respond to his touch either, needing to keep some kind of emotional shield in place in order to tell him her story. His story. She nods at his questions, allowing herself a moment of silence until the tightness in her throat can ease. Rose staring at a patch of blue flowers, watching their color lose their vibrancy in the fading light of the day.
“The kidnapping. The mansion full of vampires. The ghosts hating Strigoi.” They're all snippets of things she's told him and this is how they all tie together. Dimitri. “That night, when you pulled me out of the fountain?” She allows herself to look at him again, to see if he’s pieced it all together. It’s not so hard to figure out once you know they’re all connected; The bites on her neck. The fear in her eyes. Even the fact that she doesn’t have anything left to feel for a boy who died right in front of her. It would always come back to Dimitri.
“His name was Dimitri Belikov and he was the best person I’ve ever known.” Her gaze returning to that patch of faded blue flowers. There’s an almost eerie calm that surrounds her now, like the very thing she’s needed for so long, was to say the words that made that night real, to stop the endless scenarios spinning around in her head. “And the night we met was the night I drove a stake through his heart.”