01-30-2017, 12:50 AM
Stillwater
He whispered her name. She returned with his, a little more strained than it had been before. A little more knowing. A sly smile crept to his lips, amusement sparking in his dark eyes. You have to stop saying my name like that. He chuckled softly, rubbed his nose sweetly against hers.
But I think you like it, he whispered teasingly.
And soon she was agreeing to come home with him, placing her own lips to his cheek before he turned to guide her up the short slope. He stopped at the entrance, allowed her to pass him and enter first as her last lights blinked out and threw them in darkness. Her steps hesitated, but she pressed forward, blackness draping over her like a sheen of silk. He glanced back the way they came, back to the water where she'd gifted him a night sky. Had he anything at all he could give her? No..
Stillwater? Her voice was an echoing tremor through the entrance as he slipped in silently. A quiet gasp escaped her and the line of her shadowed figure faltered abruptly. He smelled it instantly, the wound, the blood, flesh torn on jagged rocks. His nostrils flared, unseen in the solid darkness like the rest of his jet-black body. Made for this. Even his eyes were dark, only a shade lighter and bluer than the surroundings, unnoticed until they came into focus so near another face.
Stillwater? Are you still there?" Pain.
Here, Luster, he said quietly, stepping before her. His voice had turned dull and bland, his eyes glossing over like murky waters. calculating. He blinked slowly, watching her with such intensity. She smelled good, sweet. And she was attractive. Young. Her faded lights flickered to existence, lighting his face, and his gaze shifted to her shoulder to mask them beneath thick lashes, knowing somehow these eyes were wrong now. You're hurt, he forced out, finding speech odd.
She swayed forward, fatigued and drained. He stepped in to catch her against his chest, stared down at her. Soft blue and lacy white. Luster. He breathed, he blinked; his eyes darkened and cleared when they opened again. With a glance around them, he pulled back to give her space after making certain she was steady again. I bet morning doesn't reach in here, she said. He smiled weakly, but looked again to her shoulder.
You're hurt, Luster, he repeated, his voice tight with concern, brows pinched. He should tend to her, he knew he should, but he knew he couldn't. Thanks to Karaugh enlightening him on that terrible side effect of letting one live, he knew he could never tend to her wounds without putting her in danger from him. Without craving her. He slid to her other shoulder instead, swinging around to align himself at her side, and brushed his mouth across her jaw.
Lie down and rest, he suggested gently, we will still stay awake. If you want. Though you should sleep if you must leave in the morning.
Of course she must.
But I think you like it, he whispered teasingly.
And soon she was agreeing to come home with him, placing her own lips to his cheek before he turned to guide her up the short slope. He stopped at the entrance, allowed her to pass him and enter first as her last lights blinked out and threw them in darkness. Her steps hesitated, but she pressed forward, blackness draping over her like a sheen of silk. He glanced back the way they came, back to the water where she'd gifted him a night sky. Had he anything at all he could give her? No..
Stillwater? Her voice was an echoing tremor through the entrance as he slipped in silently. A quiet gasp escaped her and the line of her shadowed figure faltered abruptly. He smelled it instantly, the wound, the blood, flesh torn on jagged rocks. His nostrils flared, unseen in the solid darkness like the rest of his jet-black body. Made for this. Even his eyes were dark, only a shade lighter and bluer than the surroundings, unnoticed until they came into focus so near another face.
Stillwater? Are you still there?" Pain.
Here, Luster, he said quietly, stepping before her. His voice had turned dull and bland, his eyes glossing over like murky waters. calculating. He blinked slowly, watching her with such intensity. She smelled good, sweet. And she was attractive. Young. Her faded lights flickered to existence, lighting his face, and his gaze shifted to her shoulder to mask them beneath thick lashes, knowing somehow these eyes were wrong now. You're hurt, he forced out, finding speech odd.
She swayed forward, fatigued and drained. He stepped in to catch her against his chest, stared down at her. Soft blue and lacy white. Luster. He breathed, he blinked; his eyes darkened and cleared when they opened again. With a glance around them, he pulled back to give her space after making certain she was steady again. I bet morning doesn't reach in here, she said. He smiled weakly, but looked again to her shoulder.
You're hurt, Luster, he repeated, his voice tight with concern, brows pinched. He should tend to her, he knew he should, but he knew he couldn't. Thanks to Karaugh enlightening him on that terrible side effect of letting one live, he knew he could never tend to her wounds without putting her in danger from him. Without craving her. He slid to her other shoulder instead, swinging around to align himself at her side, and brushed his mouth across her jaw.
Lie down and rest, he suggested gently, we will still stay awake. If you want. Though you should sleep if you must leave in the morning.
Of course she must.
go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it