by Minim Calibre


Jasmine digs her nails into his palms until she breaks his flesh, spilling his blood and taking his pain. It feels like the night they gave her form, created this vessel for the world.

Family. His and Cordelia's.

Her hands are warm; he can feel them even after she takes them away, showing him her palms now marked with his wounds.

"We'll be together, raised high. You at my side, ruling as family."

Connor feels more of his pain slip away as she slides her arms around him, holding him close so he can inhale the slight scent of flowers that clings to her. Her palms, now healed, spread flat against his back, their heat radiating through him, her fingers digging softly into the tight muscles of his shoulders until he slumps against her, letting her in, letting her consume him.

Her mouth is soft, like Cordelia's, and her hands are sure.

"Let me take the last of your pain, Father."

It feels right to be one with her.

Like family.


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