04-03-2018, 09:17 PM
A deep inhale. Alive.
A deep exhale. Still alive.
He opens his eyes to find himself on the edge of the Beach, soaked to the bone in ocean-water. His body aches all over (who knew coming back to life after being dead for years was so painful?) but it is so wildly blissful compared to the complete nothingness that he’s been feeling for so long. He revels in the pain, stretching each muscle and nearly groaning at the way ligaments and tendons and joints slide and twist.
With the knowledge that his body is entirely his (and that the world is doused in color and smell and shape and life), he runs.
He’s always kept track of her, looking just behind her dragon-twisted eyes, so he knows exactly where to find her. He does not veer to snap emerald grass into his mouth or gulp fresh water from a stream; such feeble pleasantries can come later after he has had his fill of touching his love. By the time he reaches Nerine’s border, his muscles are spasming and his deep, russet chest is sweaty. His thick, tangled mane sticks to the ropey muscle of his slick neck and he is heaving large gulps of air.
A deep inhale. Alive.
A deep exhale. Still alive.
He finds her quickly — that russet Jungle knight racing for that fiery Jungle queen. She’s pushing through the undergrowth and he can sense her moodiness. It will change. Her skin is splintered from the weight of the sun, her body is no longer covered with the living fire he used to trace with his lips. But she is damn sexy and he will argue that until the next time he dies.
A deep inhale. Alive.
A deep exhale. Still alive.
“Scorch.”
A deep exhale. Still alive.
He opens his eyes to find himself on the edge of the Beach, soaked to the bone in ocean-water. His body aches all over (who knew coming back to life after being dead for years was so painful?) but it is so wildly blissful compared to the complete nothingness that he’s been feeling for so long. He revels in the pain, stretching each muscle and nearly groaning at the way ligaments and tendons and joints slide and twist.
With the knowledge that his body is entirely his (and that the world is doused in color and smell and shape and life), he runs.
He’s always kept track of her, looking just behind her dragon-twisted eyes, so he knows exactly where to find her. He does not veer to snap emerald grass into his mouth or gulp fresh water from a stream; such feeble pleasantries can come later after he has had his fill of touching his love. By the time he reaches Nerine’s border, his muscles are spasming and his deep, russet chest is sweaty. His thick, tangled mane sticks to the ropey muscle of his slick neck and he is heaving large gulps of air.
A deep inhale. Alive.
A deep exhale. Still alive.
He finds her quickly — that russet Jungle knight racing for that fiery Jungle queen. She’s pushing through the undergrowth and he can sense her moodiness. It will change. Her skin is splintered from the weight of the sun, her body is no longer covered with the living fire he used to trace with his lips. But she is damn sexy and he will argue that until the next time he dies.
A deep inhale. Alive.
A deep exhale. Still alive.
“Scorch.”