08-31-2017, 08:01 PM
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
For a moment, she is still.
Though her heart is beating recklessly inside of her chest, her breath is hitched, and her sinew and bone are still, enveloped by the embrace of the slender column of his throat, with his pale, tangled tresses of sunlight draped over her own while her mouth lingers along the corner of his. Around her, the world is continuing to move – the gentle ocean breeze brushing over her skin, while the wild and ravenous tide lips hungrily along the shoreline and against her lean, gilded legs – and yet, until a breath she hadn’t realized she’d be holding emerges across the surface of his cheek, she is unwavering, wanting to hold onto the moment for as long as time would allow her to.
When his lashes rise to reveal the darkness of his searching gaze, there is no longer any trace of uncertainty – there is a glimmer of the very same ferocity she had come to know so intimately that brisk, autumn evening (it felt so long ago, and there is a soft ache that yearns to be closer to him, to capture the unbridled desire that had been stoked like an effervescent flame). Her pale lips part, though her voice is caught in the tightness of her throat – there is no uncertainty; only the hesitance that comes with the utterance of any proclamation of love.
She had never said it before, either – not even to Magnus, though as maturity has found its way into the softened ridges of her gaze and in the marrow of her bones, she had come to find that what she had felt for him was not love at all – not a deeply romantic love. It was nothing compared to how she felt when she was close to Ledger, bathing alongside him beneath the pale dusk amid the salty seawater, his lips against her own. There is a gentle fluttering beneath her chest plate, and though it is unfamiliar, she does not shy away from it – embracing it wholly, until her heartbeat thunders harder than a thousand hoofbeats at his soft, but definite confession.
Love.
He loved her, too.
And softly, she murmurs to him, I love you, too, before pressing her lips against the curve of his jaw, the hollow of his cheek and where bone meets the defined muscle of his neck, trailing along the length of his body as her own hunger grew – eager, aching, needing, and she gives herself to him as wholly as the starlit sky gives itself to the moon, and as freely as the wayward breeze gives itself to the open sea.
Though her heart is beating recklessly inside of her chest, her breath is hitched, and her sinew and bone are still, enveloped by the embrace of the slender column of his throat, with his pale, tangled tresses of sunlight draped over her own while her mouth lingers along the corner of his. Around her, the world is continuing to move – the gentle ocean breeze brushing over her skin, while the wild and ravenous tide lips hungrily along the shoreline and against her lean, gilded legs – and yet, until a breath she hadn’t realized she’d be holding emerges across the surface of his cheek, she is unwavering, wanting to hold onto the moment for as long as time would allow her to.
When his lashes rise to reveal the darkness of his searching gaze, there is no longer any trace of uncertainty – there is a glimmer of the very same ferocity she had come to know so intimately that brisk, autumn evening (it felt so long ago, and there is a soft ache that yearns to be closer to him, to capture the unbridled desire that had been stoked like an effervescent flame). Her pale lips part, though her voice is caught in the tightness of her throat – there is no uncertainty; only the hesitance that comes with the utterance of any proclamation of love.
She had never said it before, either – not even to Magnus, though as maturity has found its way into the softened ridges of her gaze and in the marrow of her bones, she had come to find that what she had felt for him was not love at all – not a deeply romantic love. It was nothing compared to how she felt when she was close to Ledger, bathing alongside him beneath the pale dusk amid the salty seawater, his lips against her own. There is a gentle fluttering beneath her chest plate, and though it is unfamiliar, she does not shy away from it – embracing it wholly, until her heartbeat thunders harder than a thousand hoofbeats at his soft, but definite confession.
Love.
He loved her, too.
And softly, she murmurs to him, I love you, too, before pressing her lips against the curve of his jaw, the hollow of his cheek and where bone meets the defined muscle of his neck, trailing along the length of his body as her own hunger grew – eager, aching, needing, and she gives herself to him as wholly as the starlit sky gives itself to the moon, and as freely as the wayward breeze gives itself to the open sea.
head of war of tephra
daughter of elysium & speck
daughter of elysium & speck