12-13-2018, 02:30 AM
you were a vision in the morning
when the light came through,
i know i've only felt religion
when i've lied with you
and i'm still waking every morning
but it's not with you
when the light came through,
i know i've only felt religion
when i've lied with you
and i'm still waking every morning
but it's not with you
.
She is worried about him. It shows in the pinched line of her brow, the way her eyes brim with concern as they watch his every move, every shift in facial expression. With the frost still radiating from within her, and the cool air cautiously embracing him as he moves closer, she can see that something about him simply isn’t right, as though he isn't even here with her. Her father would help, she thinks, if she could leave Rhae long enough to even find him; Leilan seemed to know everyone, and she knows he would assist her without question if she presented an obviously ill Rhaegor before him. But with brown eyes locked with his – eyes that seemed to be looking at her without seeing her – she knows that she can’t leave him alone.
When he steps closer, and the coolness of the frost aura begins to spread across his skin, she can almost see the fog in his eyes begin to clear, even if only slightly. She does not breathe a sigh of relief just yet; he is staring at her almost oddly, his eyes seeming to focus and refocus on her face. But he is stepping closer to her then, making a move to touch her, and slowly her icy shield is lowered to protect him from the painful cold that would strike him if he was too close. The feel of his head across her back, the gentle tug that pulls her closer, and his poetic tongue sends her pulse racing again. Despite her worry, she cannot help but to smile at the words that he says, repeating in a mildly teasing tone, ”Lady Winter? I’m not that cold...yet.”
Her worry is not completely sated, however, disentangling herself from him as he lowers himself to the ground. For a moment she simply stands above him, her lips trailing from his poll and down the arch of his neck, her teeth idly toying with his mane. But Nerine, she decides, is safe enough that even in his weakened state, she can let her guard down. Carefully, she folds her slender legs beneath her, cautious of his wings as she positions herself closer to the front of him. With her gold-blazed head draping over his neck, she cradles him gently against her, her mouth once more caressing his warm skin. He still doesn’t feel like he is hers, and she is trying to keep that in mind as her heart flutters in her chest, as her lips lay kisses along his cheek, his forehead, and his neck.
But his words make her stop.
She inhales sharply, withdrawing only slightly to study him carefully, as though if she stares at him long enough she will find the truth or lies in his words. She runs them over in her mind, analyzing every syllable, every connotation. But the silence is only a split second, hardly a breath, as she lays her head against his neck again and murmurs into the tangled threads of mane, ”I love you too, Rhae. Forever and always.” She has no way of knowing how much or how little meaning are behind his words but hers leave nothing to be doubted. She is young, and she knows some would think her a fool, but she has loved him almost her entire life. She doesn’t, and wouldn’t, know how to love anyone else. With her golden blaze disappearing into the groove of his neck, and her eyes drifting close, she finally resigns herself to the idea that she is his, that he holds her heart, and she no longer has control over it.
When he steps closer, and the coolness of the frost aura begins to spread across his skin, she can almost see the fog in his eyes begin to clear, even if only slightly. She does not breathe a sigh of relief just yet; he is staring at her almost oddly, his eyes seeming to focus and refocus on her face. But he is stepping closer to her then, making a move to touch her, and slowly her icy shield is lowered to protect him from the painful cold that would strike him if he was too close. The feel of his head across her back, the gentle tug that pulls her closer, and his poetic tongue sends her pulse racing again. Despite her worry, she cannot help but to smile at the words that he says, repeating in a mildly teasing tone, ”Lady Winter? I’m not that cold...yet.”
Her worry is not completely sated, however, disentangling herself from him as he lowers himself to the ground. For a moment she simply stands above him, her lips trailing from his poll and down the arch of his neck, her teeth idly toying with his mane. But Nerine, she decides, is safe enough that even in his weakened state, she can let her guard down. Carefully, she folds her slender legs beneath her, cautious of his wings as she positions herself closer to the front of him. With her gold-blazed head draping over his neck, she cradles him gently against her, her mouth once more caressing his warm skin. He still doesn’t feel like he is hers, and she is trying to keep that in mind as her heart flutters in her chest, as her lips lay kisses along his cheek, his forehead, and his neck.
But his words make her stop.
She inhales sharply, withdrawing only slightly to study him carefully, as though if she stares at him long enough she will find the truth or lies in his words. She runs them over in her mind, analyzing every syllable, every connotation. But the silence is only a split second, hardly a breath, as she lays her head against his neck again and murmurs into the tangled threads of mane, ”I love you too, Rhae. Forever and always.” She has no way of knowing how much or how little meaning are behind his words but hers leave nothing to be doubted. She is young, and she knows some would think her a fool, but she has loved him almost her entire life. She doesn’t, and wouldn’t, know how to love anyone else. With her golden blaze disappearing into the groove of his neck, and her eyes drifting close, she finally resigns herself to the idea that she is his, that he holds her heart, and she no longer has control over it.
chryseis
@[Rhaegor]
The End
For now.