the night is lovely as a rose

we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love

You deserve the smack. And you take it with a wide and goofy grin, grabbing her hand after it makes impact (with your good arm, because she is a gem like that) and pulling her close. There's a pounding of your pulse that you can feel in your toes, but it's a good pounding, like the feeling of just having cliff-jumped into the ocean. It's something she's good at making you feel, something you haven't felt in a long time.

Your head tilts down to hers as she rests upon your shoulder, lips immediately finding her hairline, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as your eyes flutter and the pounding only intensifies in strength. "I love you too, Vervain," you whisper against her, your kisses trailing down her forehead, over the bridge of her nose. Each one is punctuated by another declaration - "I love you," - and before you know it you're at her lips, her cheek cupped in your hand.

For a moment you pull back, far enough that you can look down into those blue eyes and wonder what the fuck you did to deserve them looking at you. And then with a surprising tenderness you move to take her lips, instilling all your adoration and desire in the intimate action. You love her. You're in love. You've fallen in love with a witch from the woods, and somehow she loves you back.

You're not sure if you're blessed or cursed, and you don't care either way.

zephyr