10-15-2017, 02:43 PM
isobell
There had been a buzzing in her head that she had not noticed till it was gone. A veil of thin gauze, much like a bride's, had been lifted from the mercury filled eyes as the rain falls nearly in sheets. There was a dull ache between her legs, a wetness that was not rainfall, that she has suddenly become very aware of.
No long is she the child of yesteryear. Isobell takes a deep breath, attempting to slow her quickened pulse, count backward from ten to one. Till nothing is left.
(10...9...8...)
She steals a glance at Ivar with his easy smile and light hearted chuckle.
(7...6...5...)
She can feel a shiver or fright, desire, greed for this painted bastard.
(4...3...2...)
Despite the rain, the saturation of her flawless white and black texture, there is a tingle to where his teeth had taken hold of her skin and the savage way he ruled her flesh (if only for a blinding moment). Isobell has fallen quiet as she deliberates this. The smoldering creature that seemed to lay just below the pretty scales. Isobell, bold and bright, simply returns his chuckle with her own dancing one. The cool rain felt good to wipe away the heat from her skin, the moist place the man had conjured up in her. "Perhaps you are right." She retorts with a cool voice, the words tip toeing off the pink tongue in her mouth. "I'm not sure whom else I trust to be alone with me-" She leaves the comment to hang in the air, curious of how he responses and sensitive to the way his body speaks without words but instead of waiting any longer, "-should we take shelter beneath the pines-"
(1)
"-or would you like to hurry to Loess?" She can hear her mother's steely voice telling her to hush, to be quiet and listen, wait for his response so she may measure this man by his words. Isobell was curious to how he would reply as the rain fell down upon them, Isobell's mane quite plainly stuck to her neck and the length of her tail dragging in the mud and yet there was still a glint in her silver eye as she tilted her head to glance at him from the side.
No long is she the child of yesteryear. Isobell takes a deep breath, attempting to slow her quickened pulse, count backward from ten to one. Till nothing is left.
(10...9...8...)
She steals a glance at Ivar with his easy smile and light hearted chuckle.
(7...6...5...)
She can feel a shiver or fright, desire, greed for this painted bastard.
(4...3...2...)
Despite the rain, the saturation of her flawless white and black texture, there is a tingle to where his teeth had taken hold of her skin and the savage way he ruled her flesh (if only for a blinding moment). Isobell has fallen quiet as she deliberates this. The smoldering creature that seemed to lay just below the pretty scales. Isobell, bold and bright, simply returns his chuckle with her own dancing one. The cool rain felt good to wipe away the heat from her skin, the moist place the man had conjured up in her. "Perhaps you are right." She retorts with a cool voice, the words tip toeing off the pink tongue in her mouth. "I'm not sure whom else I trust to be alone with me-" She leaves the comment to hang in the air, curious of how he responses and sensitive to the way his body speaks without words but instead of waiting any longer, "-should we take shelter beneath the pines-"
(1)
"-or would you like to hurry to Loess?" She can hear her mother's steely voice telling her to hush, to be quiet and listen, wait for his response so she may measure this man by his words. Isobell was curious to how he would reply as the rain fell down upon them, Isobell's mane quite plainly stuck to her neck and the length of her tail dragging in the mud and yet there was still a glint in her silver eye as she tilted her head to glance at him from the side.
i'll wait for you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea