07-14-2017, 01:33 AM
Ellyse
I know some things that you don't; I've done things that you won't
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
“I should have known I would find you beside the ocean.”
She cannot look at him – her gaze is elsewhere, lost somewhere in the insatiable sea, as its dark, unforgiving waves ease up along the shoreline, pulling away at the thick, impacted sand that lay just beyond the thick and swaying vegetation. She had seen his silhouette, gleaming a vibrant auburn beneath the bright and vivid sunlight, with the faint shadow of indigo touching the very edge of his jaw and darkened mouth, and she had gone to him, but she could not look at him.
Not yet.
She had kept herself from him for long enough. Her heart is broken and tempestuous; unruly and seeking so much more than she could ever deserve of him – she loved him, so deeply, for he was her closest friend, her confidant – but she had felt a glimmer of something more, and each and every time it dared bloom, she quieted it and silenced it with distance and time.
Finally, she has parted the long and lustrous vegetation that lay between her and Warrick himself, with the churning and rustling ocean that lay before them. He is focused on some miniscule, living creature scuttling across the dense coastline, his mind elsewhere, with thick, roiling tension etched into the hardened muscle of his neck and jaw – but a gasp emerges from her lungs as the entirety of his physique is revealed to her, with thick, radiant wings of the deepest indigo clutching to his barrel, harnessed into the hard bone of his shoulders.
”Warrick!” she exclaims, with awe, disbelief and enthrallment suddenly taking place of any hesitance or aching uncertainty that might still linger. Their time apart was of their own doing, but so much had happened – so much he had not told her, and so much she had not shared. Not yet. Gently, her wings tuck tighter against her widening barrel (she is not yet heavily pregnant, but she is visibly expecting, with life stirring and stretching within her).
”You have wings!” she murmurs, the corner of her mouth rising with the uptick of a smile, curious, with a glimmer of amusement in the golden flecks of her watchful eyes as her lips press against his wing, tasting the salty brine of the sea where the ocean mist had carried itself onto his feathers. ”When did this happen? How? Tell me everything.”
Everything.
Yet still, the feathers of her own ivory wings, stark against the gold of her skin, spread to hide her own secret – to no avail.
She cannot look at him – her gaze is elsewhere, lost somewhere in the insatiable sea, as its dark, unforgiving waves ease up along the shoreline, pulling away at the thick, impacted sand that lay just beyond the thick and swaying vegetation. She had seen his silhouette, gleaming a vibrant auburn beneath the bright and vivid sunlight, with the faint shadow of indigo touching the very edge of his jaw and darkened mouth, and she had gone to him, but she could not look at him.
Not yet.
She had kept herself from him for long enough. Her heart is broken and tempestuous; unruly and seeking so much more than she could ever deserve of him – she loved him, so deeply, for he was her closest friend, her confidant – but she had felt a glimmer of something more, and each and every time it dared bloom, she quieted it and silenced it with distance and time.
Finally, she has parted the long and lustrous vegetation that lay between her and Warrick himself, with the churning and rustling ocean that lay before them. He is focused on some miniscule, living creature scuttling across the dense coastline, his mind elsewhere, with thick, roiling tension etched into the hardened muscle of his neck and jaw – but a gasp emerges from her lungs as the entirety of his physique is revealed to her, with thick, radiant wings of the deepest indigo clutching to his barrel, harnessed into the hard bone of his shoulders.
”Warrick!” she exclaims, with awe, disbelief and enthrallment suddenly taking place of any hesitance or aching uncertainty that might still linger. Their time apart was of their own doing, but so much had happened – so much he had not told her, and so much she had not shared. Not yet. Gently, her wings tuck tighter against her widening barrel (she is not yet heavily pregnant, but she is visibly expecting, with life stirring and stretching within her).
”You have wings!” she murmurs, the corner of her mouth rising with the uptick of a smile, curious, with a glimmer of amusement in the golden flecks of her watchful eyes as her lips press against his wing, tasting the salty brine of the sea where the ocean mist had carried itself onto his feathers. ”When did this happen? How? Tell me everything.”
Everything.
Yet still, the feathers of her own ivory wings, stark against the gold of her skin, spread to hide her own secret – to no avail.
head of war of tephra
daughter of elysium & speck
daughter of elysium & speck
@[Warrick]