01-05-2019, 12:27 AM
living for the past
because the future's gone. praying in the dark that you won't go home. i should've said it better, i should've set fire to a letter. but i could run to your apartment, hope i get it started better than before; and i could write it in a poem, pretend i used to know you better than before.
Wolfbane smiles (a wide, warm expression that stretches into the olive of his eyes; she notices the absence of the pale fangs from his mouth) and she can feel the crackling fire of home against her high, defined cheekbones. It brings her own expression onto her face, one that is summery and dangerous and crackling with the spirit Wishbone never fails to carry with her. Despite the quickness of her disappearance and the silence that came with it, she cannot deny that Wolfbane has been the closest thing to home throughout her life. Tephra carries a piece of familiarity with it alongside Nerine; her parents are influential in her childhood; Solace and Svedka are her siblings to their core — but Wolfbane has been a constant in her life since the very beginning.
When his lips touch the corner of her mouth, she curls herself closer to him. Wishbone has never been one to shy away from publically expressing her desires and affections, even with the weight of a crown on her head. Perhaps that is something of her chaotic carelessness, but for this moment in time it is brought upon by the ache of time separated and the familiarity his golden sides bring her. Wolfbane’s bright blue nose explores her face and his scent washes away the sharp smells of foreign lands.
“I should have told you.” Her honey-whiskey voice is equally as quiet in the rose-gold of their reunion. She’d thought about leaving him a note or a memento so he didn’t think she’d died (a true goodbye would have been too difficult, even for her), but the idea only came to her when she was upon some steep mountain with thin air and open skies. It is perhaps the only thing Wishbone regrets from her endeavor — leaving him with nothing more than cold flanks and lonely nights.
Wishbone would apologize again if he hadn’t already hushed her.
His mouth pauses at her forehead, blue nose mingling with tangled dark tresses of her forelock, and Wishbone feels her entire body still in the silence. She is a doe held under the trap of his silence, waiting with a tender breath and an impatient heart to hear his judgment. When his question comes, it shatters the glass that encapsulated her. Wishbone’s dark mouth moves to kiss the slope of his golden chest. It’s a surprisingly brief action, but only because her lips are moving up toward the curve of his neck, placing tender yet firm kisses up the line of his throat and under his jaw.
She can’t help but think about how damned much she’s missed him.
Her mouth moves from the shadow of his jaw up toward the plane of his cheek and against the cream of his mohawk mane. Wishbone places a sweet, long touch to the skin just below his ear before whispering, “Yes, Bane.” She doesn’t know if there are other lovers in his life or if she will stay in Loess, but she will stay in Beqanna and she will stay curled against him today. “I’ve missed you.” It feels like a dam has burst in her chest to finally say those words out loud and for him to hear them. “I’ve loved you every single day I’ve been gone.”
When his lips touch the corner of her mouth, she curls herself closer to him. Wishbone has never been one to shy away from publically expressing her desires and affections, even with the weight of a crown on her head. Perhaps that is something of her chaotic carelessness, but for this moment in time it is brought upon by the ache of time separated and the familiarity his golden sides bring her. Wolfbane’s bright blue nose explores her face and his scent washes away the sharp smells of foreign lands.
“I should have told you.” Her honey-whiskey voice is equally as quiet in the rose-gold of their reunion. She’d thought about leaving him a note or a memento so he didn’t think she’d died (a true goodbye would have been too difficult, even for her), but the idea only came to her when she was upon some steep mountain with thin air and open skies. It is perhaps the only thing Wishbone regrets from her endeavor — leaving him with nothing more than cold flanks and lonely nights.
Wishbone would apologize again if he hadn’t already hushed her.
His mouth pauses at her forehead, blue nose mingling with tangled dark tresses of her forelock, and Wishbone feels her entire body still in the silence. She is a doe held under the trap of his silence, waiting with a tender breath and an impatient heart to hear his judgment. When his question comes, it shatters the glass that encapsulated her. Wishbone’s dark mouth moves to kiss the slope of his golden chest. It’s a surprisingly brief action, but only because her lips are moving up toward the curve of his neck, placing tender yet firm kisses up the line of his throat and under his jaw.
She can’t help but think about how damned much she’s missed him.
Her mouth moves from the shadow of his jaw up toward the plane of his cheek and against the cream of his mohawk mane. Wishbone places a sweet, long touch to the skin just below his ear before whispering, “Yes, Bane.” She doesn’t know if there are other lovers in his life or if she will stay in Loess, but she will stay in Beqanna and she will stay curled against him today. “I’ve missed you.” It feels like a dam has burst in her chest to finally say those words out loud and for him to hear them. “I’ve loved you every single day I’ve been gone.”
@[Wolfbane]