She loves to land. She loves having a place to touch down and rest before she goes back to the clouds.
She's never had that before. Everyone has always pushed her higher or tried to chain her to the ground. She has never had a place where she could just exist, just breathe, before this. She's still not sure what to do with it, but she knows she doesn't want to let it go.
Kahlan knows her touch can break anyone. The smallest children to the most monstrous of men. The mightiest Mord Sith will die from grief after Confession. The noblest warrior will lose themselves in love.
The Mother Confessor can fell heroes.
Kahlan knows that Confessors make great sacrifices for a great service, a necessary station to secure peace.
But sometimes she wonders where her happy ending is.
When Annie kisses him, it's kind of like getting hit in the back of the head with a baseball bat. He can practically hear the whack as his thoughts tweak, all his skill with predicting people and manipulation tangling up in Annie's taste and the way her fingers grip his neck or clutch at his arms, like she's afraid he's about to jerk away.
Cara never feels more alive than when she's fighting. It doesn't matter who, it doesn't matter how injured she gets, when she blood is up she feels immortal.
Her nightmares are never about fighting, are never about pain. She wakes up gasping with her head thick from scenes of an ordinary life, where two children look at her with utter trust and soft skirts sway about her legs.
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She's never had that before. Everyone has always pushed her higher or tried to chain her to the ground. She has never had a place where she could just exist, just breathe, before this. She's still not sure what to do with it, but she knows she doesn't want to let it go.
She'll never let go of her family.
*Hides under a rock*
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The Mother Confessor can fell heroes.
Kahlan knows that Confessors make great sacrifices for a great service, a necessary station to secure peace.
But sometimes she wonders where her happy ending is.
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Comment.
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Did not realize we could do more than one.
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Her nightmares are never about fighting, are never about pain. She wakes up gasping with her head thick from scenes of an ordinary life, where two children look at her with utter trust and soft skirts sway about her legs.
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