we are slaves to the sirens of the salty sea
The moment has the pitch and feel of a dream, but Evia does not mind.
She finds that she rather likes the way that time seems to slow when she is with him, the rest of the world growing still and quiet—slinking away as though to leave the two of them alone within it. Her silver eyes do not leave him, studying the soft edges of him that bleed into the darkness that swallows them. She is surprised to find that her throat is dry. Surprised that he can affect her so, but she does not mind.
Instead she leans into the pleasant sensation of it—the way that she buzzes with anticipation and feels just the slightest lightheadedness as she moves closer to her. “I have always thought of you,” she admits, not knowing how to be coy with him—her more flirtatious ways draining from her the further she is from the ocean. It leaves her vulnerable and raw and honest, not able to hide behind simpers and fluttering lashes.
He reaches for her and for the first time since they have met, she feels something solid beneath her touch. She exhales a shuddering breath, a breath that she had not even known she had been holding, and leans into him. Her silver lips explore the ridges of him—the angles and plains, the way his body is made real.
It feels like a dream come to life, a thought made whole.
She shivers beneath his touch but does not shy away from him.
“I have thought of this moment,” she admits, more honest and forthcoming than usual.
“I have thought of how it feels to have a dream of your own.”
She closes her eyes, pressing her lips to his jaw.
“How strange to want something that exists in only your head.”
@[jamie]