When she presses her ear against him, he feels his skin go cold, like a flash of frozen air blasting over him before it then feels like hot milk wrapping him. He’s always relished the touch of a woman, but this is a little different. Her metal feel is nothing he’s ever sidled up next to before, so the sensation is perplexing, yet magnetic still.
“Not that I can remember.” he eludes to reincarnation, his voice hollow of emotion when he says it – so matter of factly the words leave his lips into the night. He listens to her poetic voice, but when he tries to form a word or two in retort, she asks him a bold question. It draws a feeling of dread from his center and to his surface, he swallows hard – “I am afraid to suffer.” It wasn’t quite pain, or even terror that shapes his tone, but it is not a monotone as before. It has weight, gravelly and deep, and honest. He is rarely so honest about the stirring beneath his glassy exterior. He likes to keep things light, unattached, and most of all, shallow.
These few moments after the darkness sinks in, the howls and growls raging in the distance. The world is crumbling, cracking and moaning as it changes, as the magma boils and the underworld begins to pound at the doors. These moments feel deeper than any moments before them. It makes him realize is not afraid to die, but afraid to writhe in agony, or die trapped, to die desperately wanting.
“Well did that hurt?” he inquires, changing the current of his thoughts, yanking them away from deeper things and back to something a bit more in his comfort zone. Something cracks the bushes to their left, its footsteps loud and weighted, its growling rising, glowing red eyes seeming to float their way – things were becoming more dangerous now, they’ve been spotted. No time to answer his question, “We’ve got to get out of here…” he whispers into her neck, and if it were not dark you could see his breath fog her golden ‘skin’. He nudges her in the gentlest way he can toward the River. He’s not sure if it would be safer there, but it was a somewhere very familiar to him. He would not force her, or push her hard, but he would keep pace if she chooses to come and help stave off the dangers the world has now presented them with.
chemdog
astra inclinant, sed non obligant.
SORRY FOR THE WAIT
things have been.. a lot lately!
and you write this lovely girl any way you want! i love it
sorry for the weird post, hopefully they can continue in the river?
@[bible] <3
