Work Text:
Tinga thinks: he will be the death of us.
Standing still makes her heart ache, her legs tremble.
Tinga thinks: run! run far, and fast, and now.
She can't move. She has waited too long, and now she is captive to her own fierce happiness. Weak, and foolish--but being alive isn't enough. Simply being alive has *never* been enough, and what is freedom without happiness?
Yes, Penny says: oh, *yes.*
She can allow herself this much: she will be happy until the day she dies.