09-01-2016, 09:00 AM
"we pull apart the darkness while we can"
Her face is as dark as it ever is, blue and black and pooling with the shadows that spill over from nightmares and impossibilities. Grumblesnakes had found her again, played with her like a toy until by some chance she had broken the magic that bound them together and denied him his fun. It had felt like a victory, albeit a small broken one, but where before he had held her trapped and ruined, where before he made her blue and immortal wholly changed, this time she had left unchanged. Unchanged physically – her soul had not gone unscathed, but what difference would a few new holes make in something already torn wide open. But then Pollock had found her again too, that watery gold stallion with great curving horns atop his skull, and she had remembered that her life held no victories. They would always find her, they would always break her. It was the only life she deserved.
The sound of something in the near distance draws her attention like the snap of a whip. For a moment her eyes are dark and wild, feral while they sift through the shadows that pool beneath the trees. It is only when his scent finds her in the wind, dust and pine and winter all mixed together, that her expression changes, softening, and something like a smile winds across her dark mouth. He calls out to her and the rumbling sound of his voice feels like electricity sparking beneath her skin. Her body responds before she can, eager, instinctive, and in an instant she is at his side. She pushes her mouth against his neck, hungry for the soft flutter of his pulse against her lips. There is too much in her world that has been false, too many nightmares and impossibilities, too many things to make her ever take this sliver of perfection for granted. But his veins beat in time with the pounding of his heart (will it beat faster now with the heat of her mouth pressed against him) and it is enough to convince her of his utter realness.
She shifts at his side, turning languidly so that the point of her hip is pressed to the hollow of his flank, and the hollowed out line of her shoulder is flat against his. She is so greedy for this closeness, so ugly for the affections he willingly gives – ugly, because she does not deserve him. Where he is whole and perfect, she is ruined and twisted, and the fear that one day she will taint him sits like a stone in her chest. But is has been so long since they were last together in a moment untouched by worry or regret or guilt, so long since she had last traced those thick, curving lines of muscle and sinew with the soft of lips the color of deepest night. So she stays with him, beside him, ruining him with the dark in her heart because she is selfish and she is broken, and he is everything.
“Killdare.” Is all she says in return, touching her mouth to the curve of his dark jaw with a smile only he is capable of coaxing out of her. There is a moment, a very brief one, where her face darkens and her eyes flash like cold stones because she knows she must tell him about Pollock. He is the King of their home, the father of her children, he needs to know when the devil comes sniffing around. But curled together like this, alone in the quiet of the Chamber’s trees, she traces the peace on his face and finds she cannot tell him. Not now. Instead, in that quiet way she finds with their bodies pressed together, she says, “I have missed this.”
MALIS
makai x oksanailyyyy <3 <3 <3