[private] [mature] at me, the sea withdrew

[Oceane]

oceane

at me, the sea withdrew

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There's a cool autumn breeze that accompanies Castile's arrival, as if to say he is the storm. The demons from her night terror seek to find reprieve, searching for a place to hide while the calm still ebbs before that first inevitable crack of lightning. They are gone before she has the chance to linger on them any longer: Mchawi, the orange-eyed stranger, their revolting cries, the hissing of snakes.

Despite this, her heart still races. It beats at the interior of her chest, clamoring to escape through its bone cage and then through the muscle beyond. Still shaky, her breath comes in slow exhales and when the Loessian king extends his great draconic wings to blot out the silver of the moon above them, washing her in darkness, Oceane can't help but to instinctively steel herself against the show of affection.

Her reservation is ephemeral. Muscles loosening at Castile's gruff voice, the opalescent woman relaxes easily into the electric chemistry between them and floats comfortably in the warm space of this private sanctum he has created for them. "I am," she whispers confidently when he asks if she is okay. She bites at the edge of her tongue, debating before adding, "Demons of my past have begun to visit more often as of late."

There are countless incidents from Nau-Aib that sit in the records of her memory that Oceane could share with Castile, should she decide to elaborate. In fact, she mulls over it for a moment — over the idea of sharing years-old secrets for the first time in nearly four years, over the idea of confiding these things in her King. The desire to do so sits at the tip of her tongue but at the last moment she loses her resolve and instead moves wordlessly closer to the painted stallion.

She rests her violet cheek against his gold-banded one. Tentatively at first, as the knowledge of his rank floats at the forefront of her mind, but after a few slow inhales she relaxes into his warmth. "Are you often awake this late into the night?" she whispers in his ear and imagines the darkness that sits beyond the cover of his tented wings.

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@[Castile]
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