When you feel my heat [Dacia]

[Dacia]

I can still hear you saying - 
you would never break the chain

Steel - it makes the man, consumes the woman. Reflected in her eyes but resounding in his voice. They clash, swords drawn against each other when they should be joined together. She hates this, what they’ve become. Distant? Unknown? Had she ever really understood the bay before this though? Killdare had lived a whole life before she came into existence. A life without her. Dacia would do well to remember that. It was only by his good graces that she was still remaining here, in the Chamber, not pulling her weight. But what escapes his mouth is not what she expects, the rough grunt softening her stony exterior in mild surprise. He mentions Kimber in an apologetic tone, a stinging feeling piercing her breast with the sound of her name. “Hmph. If that’s what you want to call it …” She mumbles, the phrase tilting off into a rushed whisper.

Kind Killdare. The only side she ever sees when no one is around. He exposes himself now and despite her resolve, she meets his step halfway, eagerly closing the distance between them. “Weakling.” She thinks, but his concerns and his smile are pulling her under and she chooses not to fight against the current this time. Her eyes close and his hardened nose rubs gently against her cheek, the warmth radiating through her skin as she presses into the touch. She wants to tell him that she’d never hide from him. Not forever, anyways. But he speaks first and the moment disappears. “I …” She begins, voice failing her as she inhales to gather her thoughts.

Her eyes dart upwards, finding his enflamed ones marked with worry. No more lies, this time, no more secrets. Enough was enough. “I’m not sure, to be honest.” She states, body relaxing with the weight of it suddenly being lifted from her shoulders. “Killdare, try as I might I can’t stop thinking about you.” She tells him, her soft admittance falling suddenly from her lips like stones. “Or, I should say, about us, together.” She finishes, knowing he’ll get the gist of where she’s headed. She smirks, head shaking briefly. “Am I crazy, you think, to be feeling these things?” She asks, expecting that he’ll dismiss them as childish fantasies.

But still, some small part of her hopes that he won’t.

Dacia;

color-changing vixen of the chamber