[OPEN] Hurricane

[Ellyse]

don't you tell me to deny it; i've done wrong and i want to suffer for my sins.

  The sunlight was beginning to wane, tucking itself beyond the horizon and leaving a soft glow of amber and crimson in its wake, though soon the sky is swathed in darkness, as the soft, glimmering light of wayward stars dance along the edges of a bright, rising crescent moon. Her pallid skin is bathed in its soft, bleak light, and as her bright gold-flecked irises linger elsewhere for a moment, but she is observant – sensing the tension within his jawline as he struggles to decipher the unyielding ferocity of her ever-changing tone, detecting the momentary disappointment etched within his features.

  She is quiet, then, observing the way turmoil seemingly stirs within him, plucking at the carefully constructed façade of indifference and disdain, tugging at the worn, tired heartstrings he was trying desperately to keep buried within the deepest recesses of his anguished mind. He reminded her once more of someone else, of someone who struggled with the weight of guilt, longing, remorse, and ire – and the stifled emotion has surfaced, lingering along the once unmoving surface of his stare.

  Somewhere within his silence, a memory is unveiled to him, as a yearning for something intangible stirs within him as an old familiar ache envelopes him. Gently, she presses against the ridge of hardened bone and sinewy muscle along the contour of his shoulder – urging the darkness away from him; imploring him to find comfort in her touch. She is not one for words – her tongue is biting; her tone often sardonic and rife with sarcasm and scorn – but she is not impervious to his pain, and she could only hope that he could see that.

  When her hazel eyes meet with his again, two-toned and a relentless sea of unsettled emotion, the smile that had pulled at the edges of his dark mouth is reciprocated as a simper graces her own.

  ”Good. I think you will come to like our volcanic oasis,” she murmurs. Hellhole, she muses thoughtfully to herself, at least in the dead of summer. She would not give the rolling crests and peaks, the rich, moist soil, or the hot tendrils of bubbling magma for anything. It was hers, it was home.

  Home.

  ”Come, Rou – I will show you the way.”

Ellyse

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:| I am so sorry this is so late!

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