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pagans( Untie these ropes and I'll show you what a woman can do. )
Truth be told, d'Artagnan was not her first stop after she spoke with Porthos. Though Constance knows in her heart what she needs to do and that this divorce is more for herself than anyone else, the fact remains that divorce is a serious thing, a terrible crime in the eyes of God. She believes that He will forgive her sins, made as they are in the name of love, harming no one, but even so, there is some small flicker of doubt on that part. Who is she to think the rule apply differently to her than to anyone else?
But then she thinks, how can it be so wrong? If the love isn't there, if she has the means to care for herself now, then what point would there be in staying in a loveless marriage? Who is hurt by her choosing this for herself? Bonacieux is not even here. He cannot be harmed by what doesn't affect him. Still she stops at church on the way to d'Artagnan's apartment, taking a few minutes to light a candle and say a prayer, to ask for forgiveness. God help her, she needs this. Terrifying as the prospect is, she wants it fiercely. Until she cuts the ties of her marriage, she'll spend forever looking over her shoulder, wondering when all this will be taken from her. She won't lose her chance to fear.
Hurrying over, she doesn't take the time even to call, instead hurrying up to his door and knocking. How she'll tell him, what she'll say, she hardly knows, but she must tell him what Porthos has told her. He needs to know. She needs him to know.
But then she thinks, how can it be so wrong? If the love isn't there, if she has the means to care for herself now, then what point would there be in staying in a loveless marriage? Who is hurt by her choosing this for herself? Bonacieux is not even here. He cannot be harmed by what doesn't affect him. Still she stops at church on the way to d'Artagnan's apartment, taking a few minutes to light a candle and say a prayer, to ask for forgiveness. God help her, she needs this. Terrifying as the prospect is, she wants it fiercely. Until she cuts the ties of her marriage, she'll spend forever looking over her shoulder, wondering when all this will be taken from her. She won't lose her chance to fear.
Hurrying over, she doesn't take the time even to call, instead hurrying up to his door and knocking. How she'll tell him, what she'll say, she hardly knows, but she must tell him what Porthos has told her. He needs to know. She needs him to know.
no subject
Dec. 28th, 2014 08:17 pmThere's a party up on the mountain tonight and one down by City Hall. Constance is sure there are more than a few others, and that the boys would have been happy to have the two of them join them to ring in the New Year. After a couple months in the city, though, she's still cherishing the time she and d'Artagnan have together, and privacy still feels most natural, safest. She can be more utterly herself when it's only the two of them, doesn't have to hold back. Not with d'Artagnan, not ever. Not anymore.
So it's the two of them at her apartment by the beach, curled up together, and that's all she wants. That's how she wants to start the year. She's not even sure when exactly midnight ticks by. It doesn't really matter.
It's not until morning she wishes she'd paid a little more attention the world beyond the two of them. She's only stepped away for a moment, thinking of making some tea, when she notices the light. There's a quality to it that's different from yesterday and it's dimmer than she was expecting for the hour. Pulling back the blinds a little, she peers out onto her patio.
At least, she tries. Already snow has started to pile up, more than enough to cover anything that was out there before, a startling amount considering it wasn't snowing at all when they got in yesterday. She bustles back into the bedroom, crawling up alongside d'Artagnan to shake him.
So it's the two of them at her apartment by the beach, curled up together, and that's all she wants. That's how she wants to start the year. She's not even sure when exactly midnight ticks by. It doesn't really matter.
It's not until morning she wishes she'd paid a little more attention the world beyond the two of them. She's only stepped away for a moment, thinking of making some tea, when she notices the light. There's a quality to it that's different from yesterday and it's dimmer than she was expecting for the hour. Pulling back the blinds a little, she peers out onto her patio.
At least, she tries. Already snow has started to pile up, more than enough to cover anything that was out there before, a startling amount considering it wasn't snowing at all when they got in yesterday. She bustles back into the bedroom, crawling up alongside d'Artagnan to shake him.
no subject
Sep. 28th, 2014 06:32 amThis mailbox can be also used for Constance's emails. Um. Once she knows what that means.