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[i]Despite Sentry still asking difficult questions, Tamplior felt much relieved. She was so sad and beautiful in his eyes. And he was so pained by being unable to share everything that troubled his soul with her. Perhaps it was time to at least share a little bit, less his heart fall out of his ribcage. He lifted his hand and offered it to her.
“Can you hold my hand?”
It was like a stone weighing a ton had just fallen from Tamplior’s chest, leaving behind a blissful void ready to be filled with whatever the air beneath the willow was made out of.
And she did, Tamplior felt two of her soft fingers rest gently upon his palm - not because they were hesitant, but rather the focus on the sensation of touch. After that her entire palm laid on top of his. It only felt natural to pull it closer, and with it bring himself to the center of the willow where she sat. He was now kneeling right in front of her, both of their hands now locked, fingers running through each others’, eyes seeing eyes. Whatever words had failed to convey in the last minutes, the warmth of the touch could not lie, it was clear from the desperation with which the fingers held each other, completely unwilling to separate at any point soon. Sentry guided his palm to her cheek, pushing it against it, letting him stroke it. She cherished his palm like the most precious of treasures, nuzzling it and safekeeping it. And then she felt his thumb rest upon her lips.[/i]