Basel dodges love like the drops of rain, or perhaps bullets. She screams triumph with her body aching at the sky in defiance of being tied up, down, or to anything.
Tambourin watches her from the steps, grey as the fog kicked up by the rain. He holds hot love in his hands unflinching, watches it and pets it as if it were a pigeon, a canary, a fluttering thing with wild eyes and a heartbeat that he could clutch hard or release into the sky...
They manage each in their way, they do and they don't, don't do.
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