[ the rocking of luke's hips eventually subsides. his hand between them slides up her torso, backs of his fingers brushing up an invisible line, before coming to dive into her hair. he doesn't do anything but twist some of the strands around his fingers. he thinks to let go of the hand in his, his grip going slack between hers, but he doesn't yank it out of her tough as nails grasp. but he finds all of him going slack at her pressing her lips to the back of his hand — and perhaps that's why his grip dissipates entirely. it's such a soft, affectionate gesture that luke finds himself staring down at clarisse as though he's never seen the woman who cradles him between her hips. ]
[ she is a mere stranger before him, but simultaneously is the girl he knew he saw beneath all her fire and rage. he had always known, on some level, that clarisse la rue was capable of softening her edges. it seems as though she'd done so while he had been away, sharpening his own. ]
[ his voice is ragged from misuse — or perhaps from her breathing fire into his lungs, searing his voice box into ash. ] Hey. [ it's such a pathetic thing to say that he smiles. he finds he doesn't particularly want to pull any part of himself out from clarisse's grip, but he begins to shift in order to do so — to give her some breathing room and some space. ]
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[ she is a mere stranger before him, but simultaneously is the girl he knew he saw beneath all her fire and rage. he had always known, on some level, that clarisse la rue was capable of softening her edges. it seems as though she'd done so while he had been away, sharpening his own. ]
[ his voice is ragged from misuse — or perhaps from her breathing fire into his lungs, searing his voice box into ash. ] Hey. [ it's such a pathetic thing to say that he smiles. he finds he doesn't particularly want to pull any part of himself out from clarisse's grip, but he begins to shift in order to do so — to give her some breathing room and some space. ]