03-01-2021, 04:07 PM
ILLUM
Illum pauses at the sound of his name on her quiet lips, at the way her pale skin trembles beneath the touch of his shadows, and he is glad for the way she cannot hear him wondering at whether or not he could take her from here. There is a part of him that is certain he would be willing to try, certain that she would be willing to let him, at least for a while. But then he drifts closer to brush his lips along the curve of her neck and he can smell the lingering scent of her family there. His jaw clenches, and a dark violence burns through him, his gold eyes darkening to almost bronze until he closes them and turns away to look up into the flashing sky.
He had known the price of for now, and though he would have accepted anything for the reward of knowing her, he is still ill-prepared for the way it makes him ache inside his chest to stand so close to her and yet know she is so far out of reach.
It is worse when she reaches for him and he is filled with remembering and wanting and old reflexes he had thought he’d buried in graves when she stopped coming back. He had not blamed her, of course, there are very few things worth having forever, and he has never let himself believe he is one of them. It is hard to do anything but watch her face and wonder how this closeness affects her, if it affects her at all, and for as long as he can bear it he is still. But then he steps closer again and his mouth tracks quietly up her cheek and over the curve of her jaw so he can breathe in the smell of her again. In this crook at the side of her throat and just beneath her mane, there is only the smell of her and no one else.
Something unexpected eases in his chest once he is pressed so close, and the wanting is muted by a contentment that has him reaching to draw her in closer and shield her from the rain beneath wings she had healed. “That’s because you have no sense at all.” He observes, but his voice is lighter now, and the edge has gone from him as his eyes shine a soft new gold as pale as the lost sunshine. “I would’ve never had a chance if you did.” And the smile in his voice, the one he hides from his mouth, is enough to tell her how much that pleases him.
But the sound of her laughter unravels all of his efforts, and the corners of his mouth lift as he turns from the storming sky to look at her again. He is surprised that even like this, things do not feel terribly different. She is not his, but she also hadn’t cast him away. It feels like some kind of middleground he had not expected to find between them. “I had to make sure you would always be thinking of me.” He admits, a lazy shrug to his shoulders that makes the rain roll off in little streams. He is awkward though, not so practiced in whatever this is, whatever comes so easily to her as nearly everything does. And then, more seriously. “No, Angel. I can find you anywhere.” But it reignites a heat in him, revives the dark he had thought crushed down inside him, so he tenses, inhales slowly, and asks, “How is your family, Ryatah.”
He had known the price of for now, and though he would have accepted anything for the reward of knowing her, he is still ill-prepared for the way it makes him ache inside his chest to stand so close to her and yet know she is so far out of reach.
It is worse when she reaches for him and he is filled with remembering and wanting and old reflexes he had thought he’d buried in graves when she stopped coming back. He had not blamed her, of course, there are very few things worth having forever, and he has never let himself believe he is one of them. It is hard to do anything but watch her face and wonder how this closeness affects her, if it affects her at all, and for as long as he can bear it he is still. But then he steps closer again and his mouth tracks quietly up her cheek and over the curve of her jaw so he can breathe in the smell of her again. In this crook at the side of her throat and just beneath her mane, there is only the smell of her and no one else.
Something unexpected eases in his chest once he is pressed so close, and the wanting is muted by a contentment that has him reaching to draw her in closer and shield her from the rain beneath wings she had healed. “That’s because you have no sense at all.” He observes, but his voice is lighter now, and the edge has gone from him as his eyes shine a soft new gold as pale as the lost sunshine. “I would’ve never had a chance if you did.” And the smile in his voice, the one he hides from his mouth, is enough to tell her how much that pleases him.
But the sound of her laughter unravels all of his efforts, and the corners of his mouth lift as he turns from the storming sky to look at her again. He is surprised that even like this, things do not feel terribly different. She is not his, but she also hadn’t cast him away. It feels like some kind of middleground he had not expected to find between them. “I had to make sure you would always be thinking of me.” He admits, a lazy shrug to his shoulders that makes the rain roll off in little streams. He is awkward though, not so practiced in whatever this is, whatever comes so easily to her as nearly everything does. And then, more seriously. “No, Angel. I can find you anywhere.” But it reignites a heat in him, revives the dark he had thought crushed down inside him, so he tenses, inhales slowly, and asks, “How is your family, Ryatah.”
