Isla
Charcuterie skills notwithstanding - and Isla does shoot Ever a withering and helplessly amused look for that - the Remedy can only scrunch her nose at his compliments, still self-conscious about the life and death of it all, in truth. "You're seeing the end result," she reminds him gently. "I was a very broken person for a very long time. I'm still healing, underneath it all." And you are helping more than you have any idea.
Settled back in bed soon enough, as her vision floods with the sight of the aviator, Isla is able to take a few moments to do some well-deserved admiring of her own. Her fingers reach up to brush across his stubbled cheek, knowing precisely where dimples are likely to appear and where constellations of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose in the right light. Smiling despite herself, she closes her eyes against the kiss pressed to her forehead, only to turn and all but glue herself against his side.
"I feel as though we're always on a race somewhere," she admits. "Like something might happen if we stop and take a breath." Like it might turn out not to be real, or someone will tap on their shoulders and drop a bombshell that will ruin it all. But in the safety of this room in the White Hart, Isla feels like they're allowed to lay down and be - even if it will only likely last a few minutes, given how much she already wants to paint his body with her touch again.
Settled back in bed soon enough, as her vision floods with the sight of the aviator, Isla is able to take a few moments to do some well-deserved admiring of her own. Her fingers reach up to brush across his stubbled cheek, knowing precisely where dimples are likely to appear and where constellations of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose in the right light. Smiling despite herself, she closes her eyes against the kiss pressed to her forehead, only to turn and all but glue herself against his side.
"I feel as though we're always on a race somewhere," she admits. "Like something might happen if we stop and take a breath." Like it might turn out not to be real, or someone will tap on their shoulders and drop a bombshell that will ruin it all. But in the safety of this room in the White Hart, Isla feels like they're allowed to lay down and be - even if it will only likely last a few minutes, given how much she already wants to paint his body with her touch again.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
