Agnieszka
Wane comes down to the rocky shore summoned by whatever connection they share, perhaps. The sight of him brings up feelings more intense than she expected, memories, poignant emotion twisted up in confusion. She desires him even as her heart aches. And it does ache when she watches him turn his noble head back inland, reminding her that she is the other woman, her child his bastard. It had not occurred to her that he might turn her away, refuse to be father to the wriggling bit of joy growing every stronger in her belly.
Her nostrils flare and she fills her lungs to drown the anxiety and prematurely protective anger in oxygen. She has given Wane too little credit before, doubted him, only to have him blow her away with his concern for her, consume her with his desire.
Still, he looks for Khuma, for his firstborn and Eszka tries to tell herself that she needs to remember her place.
But her name spoken in his smooth timbre makes her fierce and hungry, rebellious.
He looks at her like she is beautiful, like there are words written on her skin. His smile is a siren song, his words a familiar signpost on the road home. (Too much imagery, moving on).
“Looks like I did.”
She thinks he likes her like this, foolish and concealing her fractures. It isn’t her playing false. When she is with him and pretending to be whole she feels as though she might actually be whole. Not understanding that this is how a new self is built, relationships and heartbreaks stitching her together into something.
A smile flickers at the corner of her mouth and she comes closer, amethyst eyes flicking down the beach and then back to his own. She reaches for him carefully, breathing tight and careful breaths when she brushes her lips against the corner of his mouth.
“I’ve got something to tell you.” She says gravely, a smile in her voice, knowing she isn’t keeping any secrets from him. She is stretched and round, full of aches and pains in places that have never had aches and pains. Her scent is her own and somehow also his, her little stowaway changing the perfume the rises off her skin. She has forgotten to be afraid that he will not want his child.
an unequaled gift for disaster
@[Wane]