Isla
It's so different to their last meeting in the fields - Isla drunk on adrenaline and relief at having lived through the worst of LongNight in the burning Grounds, Remi hollow and heartbroken and not knowing where he might find his life come sunrise. And yet, like the Lullaby, Isla almost prefers this. She might not be able to gasp breathlessly or sip for air, but the sensation of him moving and shifting against her, the sweet and almost curious press of his lips and his tongue; it's enough to draw a soft moan from Isla that escapes into the blanket of stars above them.
She moves willingly with his touch, and her back arches just a little (not like a foot) as if to encourage him closer, to lend her more of what she can't experience by virtue of simply being alive. Fingers gently grasp at the lapels of his suit, as if to draw him over her in earnest, and one of her legs lifts so she might playfully graze it along his thigh. Perhaps most telling of all, though - Isla doesn't feel the need to even hint at using her fangs, and when she does part from Remi at last, its with a smile a shy as it is pleased.
"I think I'd quite like this to be a date," she admits.
She moves willingly with his touch, and her back arches just a little (not like a foot) as if to encourage him closer, to lend her more of what she can't experience by virtue of simply being alive. Fingers gently grasp at the lapels of his suit, as if to draw him over her in earnest, and one of her legs lifts so she might playfully graze it along his thigh. Perhaps most telling of all, though - Isla doesn't feel the need to even hint at using her fangs, and when she does part from Remi at last, its with a smile a shy as it is pleased.
"I think I'd quite like this to be a date," she admits.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives
we're always running scared but holding knives
