05-29-2018, 10:07 AM
the secret of our world is written in the stars
She is unsure and hesitant, her soft eyes framed by the whitest lashes he had ever seen as she blinks slowly up at him. All he can do is reassure her with the charming smile he so naturally adornes, his breath warm as it flutters across her jawbone and the slender slope of her lavender cheek. Snow alights on their bodies, gentle flakes of white clinging to the bold colors that streak through their mane and forelock. “In Hyaline,” he repeats in a murmur, nosing the snow-drop bud in her mane so that it would sit just right. “In Ischia...” he continues, his voice trailing off as he takes a step back to admire her, his cerulean gaze finding hers.
“I must,” he tells her, a soft frown deepening on his pale lips as he notices her disappointment, finding that it does not sit well on her beautiful face. “and you as well.” There is no a simper of laughter on his voice as he reaches forward to press the bridge of his nose against the solidity of her neck, inhaling the sweet and tropical scents from her homeland. Her skin is smooth and supple from the warmer climate of Ischia, and not at all ready to protect her from the harshness of freshly fallen snow - even though Svedka would provide her with his own warmth, if allowed, but it would not be enough, unfortunately. “Do not be sad, sea-maiden,” he says with a grin, stepping back a single step. “Destiny, remember?”
Svedka’s voice is unwavering and thick despite the falling snow. He wonders if his thoughts would ever wander away from this moment, or remain vividly in the forefront of his mind until he saw her again.
“I must,” he tells her, a soft frown deepening on his pale lips as he notices her disappointment, finding that it does not sit well on her beautiful face. “and you as well.” There is no a simper of laughter on his voice as he reaches forward to press the bridge of his nose against the solidity of her neck, inhaling the sweet and tropical scents from her homeland. Her skin is smooth and supple from the warmer climate of Ischia, and not at all ready to protect her from the harshness of freshly fallen snow - even though Svedka would provide her with his own warmth, if allowed, but it would not be enough, unfortunately. “Do not be sad, sea-maiden,” he says with a grin, stepping back a single step. “Destiny, remember?”
Svedka’s voice is unwavering and thick despite the falling snow. He wonders if his thoughts would ever wander away from this moment, or remain vividly in the forefront of his mind until he saw her again.
(be my escape)
Svedka
@[Kylin]
Don't tell Ivar.