You could run if you were chased. [ chasing the warmth of him, her head ducks to press her cheek to his forearm, eyes closing in a childish attempt to block out the truth if she can't see it. limitations aside, not one part of her doesn't believe he couldn't fly if she were in danger.

the hand in her lap lifts to tangle in her everpresent necklace, a constant reminder that she's always been running. ]

I hate being forced to settle. [ her frown returns, not bothering to clarify that settling with him isn't a problem, that much is obvious. ] My whole life has been spent running, even when I was too young to realize. I hated it, but I hate being forced to stop more.

[ she could have chosen this, but she was never given that choice. ]