06-04-2018, 11:48 PM
haze like a fever
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
The smile that spreads on his mouth both dazzles and shocks her. Her impressions of Khaedrik have been those of shadow and decomposition, never the warm glow of sun and ruggedly handsome mountain-face his smile offers her. She isn’t complaining; though the glow of his smile threatens to burn away the shadows that cradle themselves in the hollow of his cheeks, it adds a certain unrefined charm to his features. Wishbone finds herself smiling back, consumed by the starglow on his golden lips.
She laughs again, thinking of the darkness spewing him like water from a whale’s blowhole. Khaedrik belongs in the shadows just as much as she belongs on the next adventure. Yet her pleasure grows cold in her throat at his next words, not with dread but with a different, unidentifiable emotion that sends a flutter against the rhythms of her heart.
“That’s…” she means to say ridiculous, to tease him for the reasoning of his travels, but he is stepping closer and the air is catching in her throat. The scent of him nestles comfortingly against the scent of her, two lovebirds mingling in the world of chemistry. The look in his shadow-eyes makes her wonder if drowning feels the same. They are both so perplexed and yet so captivated by one another — two bold spirits strung along a delicate string.
With one wrong move, either of them could tumble from the tightrope and spread themselves in a broken display upon the concrete.
She waits with no words upon her tongue for once, caught up in the expression of drowning in him. A seagull caws above their heads, as if encouraging the pair to strike up conversation, and then Khaedrik is leaning ever closer and her heart is moving so quickly it might escape the prison of her ribcage. It is a simple question, spoken as though it were the answer to a hundred ancient questions, and she audibly releases the breath that had been trapped in the clutches of her unsure lungs.
Wishbone takes a tender step away (although every inch of her longs to move closer, to wrap her slender body around his shadowed one until their nerve endings brush together like whispering, aching fingers) to gather her thoughts. Her mind swims, reorienting itself after nearly suffocating from the presence of his water-shadow-self. “I came here.” Is that a hint of unsettlement in the song of her honey-whiskey voice? There’s enough for it to be a rumor, but not a fact.
“And I’m supposed to be queen soon.” It could be her salvation or condemnation. Wishbone shakes her head harshly, clearing her thoughts of the heavy news. Her dark mane rolls across her shoulders before settling in an unkempt mess. “But I don’t want to talk about it.” Where before her aura had been smoke and fire, the closeness of him had settled her to ash and rainfall. Her fire stokes itself once more, blazing a trail of instability between their aching, tender souls. “I can’t believe you found me! Have you ever been swimming in the ocean?”
She doesn’t wait for his answer. Wishbone is twisting on her heels, long tail kissing the emerald grass below their feet, and careening away from his shadowed side. A wild glance is cast over her shoulder, making sure Khaedrik follows her, before she pushes into a reckless gallop and stretches her limbs for the beach. They reach it easily, the girl’s quick pace spraying morning seawater so high into the air it falls back to dampen her head.
The early-morning sunlight catches on the droplets, painting them colors of rose gold and pale yellow before they darken the mahogany of her skin. She’s chest-deep already, salt-soaked waves pushing against her legs and soothing the heat of her muscles, and the entanglement of her tail floats upon the surface like shadowy kelp. “C’mon!” she cries and her nose dips into a tall wave to shovel more water into the sky, a carefree laugh upon her mouth.
She laughs again, thinking of the darkness spewing him like water from a whale’s blowhole. Khaedrik belongs in the shadows just as much as she belongs on the next adventure. Yet her pleasure grows cold in her throat at his next words, not with dread but with a different, unidentifiable emotion that sends a flutter against the rhythms of her heart.
“That’s…” she means to say ridiculous, to tease him for the reasoning of his travels, but he is stepping closer and the air is catching in her throat. The scent of him nestles comfortingly against the scent of her, two lovebirds mingling in the world of chemistry. The look in his shadow-eyes makes her wonder if drowning feels the same. They are both so perplexed and yet so captivated by one another — two bold spirits strung along a delicate string.
With one wrong move, either of them could tumble from the tightrope and spread themselves in a broken display upon the concrete.
She waits with no words upon her tongue for once, caught up in the expression of drowning in him. A seagull caws above their heads, as if encouraging the pair to strike up conversation, and then Khaedrik is leaning ever closer and her heart is moving so quickly it might escape the prison of her ribcage. It is a simple question, spoken as though it were the answer to a hundred ancient questions, and she audibly releases the breath that had been trapped in the clutches of her unsure lungs.
Wishbone takes a tender step away (although every inch of her longs to move closer, to wrap her slender body around his shadowed one until their nerve endings brush together like whispering, aching fingers) to gather her thoughts. Her mind swims, reorienting itself after nearly suffocating from the presence of his water-shadow-self. “I came here.” Is that a hint of unsettlement in the song of her honey-whiskey voice? There’s enough for it to be a rumor, but not a fact.
“And I’m supposed to be queen soon.” It could be her salvation or condemnation. Wishbone shakes her head harshly, clearing her thoughts of the heavy news. Her dark mane rolls across her shoulders before settling in an unkempt mess. “But I don’t want to talk about it.” Where before her aura had been smoke and fire, the closeness of him had settled her to ash and rainfall. Her fire stokes itself once more, blazing a trail of instability between their aching, tender souls. “I can’t believe you found me! Have you ever been swimming in the ocean?”
She doesn’t wait for his answer. Wishbone is twisting on her heels, long tail kissing the emerald grass below their feet, and careening away from his shadowed side. A wild glance is cast over her shoulder, making sure Khaedrik follows her, before she pushes into a reckless gallop and stretches her limbs for the beach. They reach it easily, the girl’s quick pace spraying morning seawater so high into the air it falls back to dampen her head.
The early-morning sunlight catches on the droplets, painting them colors of rose gold and pale yellow before they darken the mahogany of her skin. She’s chest-deep already, salt-soaked waves pushing against her legs and soothing the heat of her muscles, and the entanglement of her tail floats upon the surface like shadowy kelp. “C’mon!” she cries and her nose dips into a tall wave to shovel more water into the sky, a carefree laugh upon her mouth.
@[Khaedrik] / <33