12-26-2018, 10:24 AM
She likes it best when they lay together like this, all close and tangled with the sound of his breathing so near beside her delicate little ear. It takes her back to things she cannot truly remember, to a time before time had even started for them, a time when they had curled together in the dark of mothers womb for all of their existence. And though it is impossible for her to remember that, specifically, to remember a time before she was born, it is still ingrained in all of her memory. In impressions and reflexes, in the way she curls into him so willingly and he folds his body around hers to keep her safe, to keep her to himself.
It’s how she knows he remembers, too.
They sleep like this now, tangled and breathing soft, her nose buried warmly in the curve of his flank, his chin drawn possessively over her dark, delicate hips. It is only the growing quiet of near-dusk that finally wakes her, and she glances outside their shallow stone den with eyes still soft and blinking with sleep. The sky is pink and orange, streaked through with red and waves of dark, burning gold. The shadows from the nearest trees are stretched long, the dark beneath them consuming much of the woods and the grassy meadows beneath.
“Deci,” she murmurs with a deep sigh that turns into a yawn as she rubs her beautiful little face against the point of his hip, “time to wake up. It’s dusk.” She yawns again, blinks the rest of the sleep from such faded blue eyes before relaxing against him again, dropping her chin to rest over his back so she can watch him wake.
He hadn’t always been this way, there hadn’t always been a need for this nocturnal behavior, but it had been an easy enough routine for them to fall into together. Taking turns at taking care of each other, protecting each other. She takes another deep breath, exhaling it in a sigh, a kiss she presses to that beautiful blue of his shining skin. “Do you think mom’s okay out there still?” She asks him abruptly, so soft and worried, those almost colorless eyes searching his face for things he might be thinking and not saying aloud.
It’s how she knows he remembers, too.
They sleep like this now, tangled and breathing soft, her nose buried warmly in the curve of his flank, his chin drawn possessively over her dark, delicate hips. It is only the growing quiet of near-dusk that finally wakes her, and she glances outside their shallow stone den with eyes still soft and blinking with sleep. The sky is pink and orange, streaked through with red and waves of dark, burning gold. The shadows from the nearest trees are stretched long, the dark beneath them consuming much of the woods and the grassy meadows beneath.
“Deci,” she murmurs with a deep sigh that turns into a yawn as she rubs her beautiful little face against the point of his hip, “time to wake up. It’s dusk.” She yawns again, blinks the rest of the sleep from such faded blue eyes before relaxing against him again, dropping her chin to rest over his back so she can watch him wake.
He hadn’t always been this way, there hadn’t always been a need for this nocturnal behavior, but it had been an easy enough routine for them to fall into together. Taking turns at taking care of each other, protecting each other. She takes another deep breath, exhaling it in a sigh, a kiss she presses to that beautiful blue of his shining skin. “Do you think mom’s okay out there still?” She asks him abruptly, so soft and worried, those almost colorless eyes searching his face for things he might be thinking and not saying aloud.