They stand like drops of ink upon white and untouched paper, the air impossibly frigid, the world a stretching expanse of certain death. Dahlia already likes it, the Reaper uncharacteristically still beside Dorian as they take in the Tundra and all it has to offer. Precious few can linger in this raw and rugged landscape, but their Family stand among them, and she glances towards him and pushes back the dark, furlined hood of her coat to offer him a catlike smile in response.
"We have not spent time together like this since we first landed in this world," she recalls, a sigh of almost longing escaping her lips and painting a cloud before her face that is soon snatched by the ruthless breeze. "Imagine if we had arrived here instead. The Tundra is starving for a touch like ours." Slowly removing her gloves, peeling the leather away to reveal her soft, pale hands, she tilts her head towards Dorian. "Shall we?"
"We have not spent time together like this since we first landed in this world," she recalls, a sigh of almost longing escaping her lips and painting a cloud before her face that is soon snatched by the ruthless breeze. "Imagine if we had arrived here instead. The Tundra is starving for a touch like ours." Slowly removing her gloves, peeling the leather away to reveal her soft, pale hands, she tilts her head towards Dorian. "Shall we?"
let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world
let me wrap my teeth around the world
