02-29-2020, 08:35 PM
dove
LOVE COULD BE LABELED POISON AND WE'D DRINK IT ANYWAYS.
She is still staring at the sparks that dance at the end of the tendrils of his mane, transfixed enough that she almost does not notice the way he calls her stars pretty. When the words do register, though, her tentative gaze flickers to his, and another blush warms her cheeks. “You think my stars are pretty?” The idea of someone finding anything about her pretty was foreign and confusing, and it showed in the hesitant hopefulness that lingered in the shadows of her eyes. “They came from my mother. My brother has them, too, but his are much prettier.” Everything about Draco was better, and she would be the first to admit it. The thought of her twin did not make her feel jealous, though; it just made her chest ache. He was strikingly beautiful, and with a way about him that commanded the attention of those around him.
And soft and sweet Dove, she was so far beneath him that she wasn’t even in his shadow.
“Do they hurt?” She asks him, reaching slowly towards his mane but without actually touching him. “The sparks, I mean.” She so badly wants to touch them – wants to know if they will feel like a lightning bolt or like a static shock, or if maybe they are like her stars and they feel like nothing at all.
She listens when he speaks of the land made of snow, and she can feel a smile lifting at the corners of her lips. “Like a river of stars?” She asks with a curious tilt of her head. She has never seen aurora lights, and so she cannot imagine any other kind of light in the night sky besides the stars. Even without fully understanding what he was referring to she can feel her heart skip in excitement at the idea of stars and ice and snow, and she asks him hesitantly, “Will you show me one day?”
And soft and sweet Dove, she was so far beneath him that she wasn’t even in his shadow.
“Do they hurt?” She asks him, reaching slowly towards his mane but without actually touching him. “The sparks, I mean.” She so badly wants to touch them – wants to know if they will feel like a lightning bolt or like a static shock, or if maybe they are like her stars and they feel like nothing at all.
She listens when he speaks of the land made of snow, and she can feel a smile lifting at the corners of her lips. “Like a river of stars?” She asks with a curious tilt of her head. She has never seen aurora lights, and so she cannot imagine any other kind of light in the night sky besides the stars. Even without fully understanding what he was referring to she can feel her heart skip in excitement at the idea of stars and ice and snow, and she asks him hesitantly, “Will you show me one day?”
@[Saphris]