[attr="class","illie b"]she's quiet, expression settling into neutral ground, as stormy burrows closer. there's a need to comfort, a need to brush away darkness like a rustle of curtains until light is pouring in and uncovering every inch. except, she can't rush stormy, can't help her any more than she is right now. there's only so many words to be said, embraces to be had, before a barrier is met. if there's one thing she knows, it's easier to help others than to help yourself and perhaps stormy knows this feeling as well as she.
darkness knows darkness in the end and it seems hers is drawn to stormy's.
they differ in size, in shape, in form. one brought on from romances gone sour and one from too many skeletons kept locked in closets that can no longer contain them. there's hollowness in their eyes, in their hearts, and it draws them closer, connected by a single red string.
the woman in her arms settles slightly, if only just enough to be able to speak without grief overwhelming her senses. and despite herself, illeana stays as still as marble. one hand continues the endeavor of comfort, of rubbing soft circles into the space between shoulder blades like a mother would a terrified child. it's natural and easy and perhaps everything is as simple as breathing with stormy. the words hang heavy in the air, palpable with so much emotion it's almost suffocating. the emotions claw at her throat despite her inexperience in the matter and she's struggling to come up with the right words to say to make everything okay.
she can't, in the end, because words are just words and they never replace what has been lost.
but she tries all the same.
"stormy," she whispers in an attempt to draw the woman back, to distract her as she has before. perhaps it works or perhaps she's adding salt to the wounds, fire to the smoldering flames.
"did you speak to him about it before asking him?" the inquiry is hesitant, practically needing to be shoved out of her mouth for her to be able to continue. a sigh follows and she's treading in uncharted waters with waves ready to drown her if she isn't careful.
"i," she starts and stops and the words find footing in her mind before her mouth.
"unfortunately, you can't rush things like that if the other person isn't as ready as you are. it -- it takes time and sometimes, it's not for everyone."as soon as they leave her mouth, the words taste bitter, heavy, like betrayal. and perhaps it's simply a preview of what's the come but how is she to know who the subject of their conversation?
her arms wrap themselves a little tighter around her waist, pulling her closer and ignoring every single line they could possibly have between them. she needs comfort. she needs someone to hold her and kiss her forehead and tell her that things will be okay even in the face of looming darkness. and illeana will always do this because she has been in this position one too many times with no one there to save her from going too far into the depths of the dark. she'll provide her hands, her body, her affection for stormy to count on.
"you didn't get any closure," she muses. the person you love leaving so suddenly, without any contact or trace, provides nothing but ache and agony. it's a different kind of loss than one she's come to know and understand but similar all the same. and perhaps that's why her voice breaks apart just a fraction, just enough to let sadness creep in over the lingering haze of wine.
"how are you supposed to accept what happened or even move on when it's still an open wound?" it's half spoken to stormy, half to herself. half to the ones lost and half to the universe. why do some things never get closed? why do they continue to fester and burn? it doesn't make sense, can't make sense, and she's been scrambling to find answers that will never be. another similarity, another string tied to their fingers until they're living half of the same life and perhaps that's why they mesh so well.
her other hand rises to stroke at stormy's hair, gentle and careful to not tug at tangled strands. it's an affectionate gesture, perhaps one with too much emotion mixed in until she can't tell whether it's protective or loving. perhaps both and perhaps neither... she's lost in the thought for a moment until stormy's struggling to speak words that illeana knows are too difficult to give life to. a soft hum of understanding escapes like a breath of air and she's glancing away, trail of thoughts searching for answers that she can't give.
"did he tell you that he didn't want to see you?" she's questioning because with the information laid out before her, it doesn't add up. well, half of it does but two conflicting variables mean misunderstanding and she's struggling to make sense of it all.
"if he missed you, then wouldn't he want to see you?" it's uncertain, rocking the boat in already rocky waters, and she knows it but she can't help it. the voice of reason wins out and she's trying to offer a small smile, gentle in a way that isn't too overbearing.
"you never know," she murmurs as stormy pulls back, as her fists clench and ball with white knuckles. charcoal flitters between crimson and white, torn until the hand at her back is drifting toward her fists. her hand is soft, gentle, soothing, as it settles on top of one of the fists and she's giving a gentle squeeze, reassuring as stormy had her.
"it could still be him, stormy. people have a way of finding their way back sometimes."