Weaver
So precious is this life, this gift,
this temporary blindness.
this temporary blindness.
”Are we sure about that? It’s what I’m good at.” Which is somewhat true, but really just because it is vastly easier to be witty than real. Not that she isn’t real too. She certainly can be, and she is always truthful. It’s just easier to bookend these things with witty comments.
She closes her eyes at the gentle kiss to her forehead though, simply enjoying his touch. Though as he says he never cared about his appearance, she just shrugs. ”I can understand that,” she says, because she has never really cared about her appearance that much either, though it was vastly different in her case. She was beautiful without trying, perhaps beautiful because she didn’t try. Perhaps some of her beauty was the scars on her skin, the dirt beneath her nails, the tangles in her hair. ”And I am perfectly happy with the way you look.” Because that too didn’t really matter.
Her hand cups the side of his face gently as he talks of masks, and she simply places kisses on his face in response for a moment; his cheeks, his nose, his forehead. ”Is it bad that I like my mask?’ she finally asks. ”After my brother died I was a mess, but I couldn’t be. Not with Korbin. So I learned how to hold it together. I learned to be stronger than everything around me. Not that I don’t feel, but I don’t break, and I do not want to break.” She meets his gaze, wondering what he thinks of that. She wants to be made of fire and steel, and so she is. At least, most of the time.
She chuckles at his suggestion though. ”Change your last name,” she says bluntly. The choice is his, but he does have one. She rolls her shoulders in a slight shrug, to tell him she doesn’t care what he does, but he always has a choice.
But then he’s whispering suggestive things in her ears and when he bites her neck, her breath hitches slightly. The space between them hurts just a little bit more. She simply hums in pleasure at the suggestion of them sweaty together, tightening her grip on him. But first the rules, and he laughs in acceptance of them. To be fair, they are not very hard rules to follow, so she’d be surprised if they hadn’t been agreeable. Though he speaks, she’s already lost as he presses his body against hers, as his lips find her own. She wraps her legs around his waist, her hands slipping into his hair, pulling her tight to him. She meets his hungry kiss with her own, falling into him.
She closes her eyes at the gentle kiss to her forehead though, simply enjoying his touch. Though as he says he never cared about his appearance, she just shrugs. ”I can understand that,” she says, because she has never really cared about her appearance that much either, though it was vastly different in her case. She was beautiful without trying, perhaps beautiful because she didn’t try. Perhaps some of her beauty was the scars on her skin, the dirt beneath her nails, the tangles in her hair. ”And I am perfectly happy with the way you look.” Because that too didn’t really matter.
Her hand cups the side of his face gently as he talks of masks, and she simply places kisses on his face in response for a moment; his cheeks, his nose, his forehead. ”Is it bad that I like my mask?’ she finally asks. ”After my brother died I was a mess, but I couldn’t be. Not with Korbin. So I learned how to hold it together. I learned to be stronger than everything around me. Not that I don’t feel, but I don’t break, and I do not want to break.” She meets his gaze, wondering what he thinks of that. She wants to be made of fire and steel, and so she is. At least, most of the time.
She chuckles at his suggestion though. ”Change your last name,” she says bluntly. The choice is his, but he does have one. She rolls her shoulders in a slight shrug, to tell him she doesn’t care what he does, but he always has a choice.
But then he’s whispering suggestive things in her ears and when he bites her neck, her breath hitches slightly. The space between them hurts just a little bit more. She simply hums in pleasure at the suggestion of them sweaty together, tightening her grip on him. But first the rules, and he laughs in acceptance of them. To be fair, they are not very hard rules to follow, so she’d be surprised if they hadn’t been agreeable. Though he speaks, she’s already lost as he presses his body against hers, as his lips find her own. She wraps her legs around his waist, her hands slipping into his hair, pulling her tight to him. She meets his hungry kiss with her own, falling into him.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark,
then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
