AMALIA
you're staring at the sky
watching stars collide
He matches her circle step by step, steadily shortening the space between them, a strange dance they alone know how to perform. His dramatic sigh is met with a beatific smile, innocent and cherubic, dark eyes fluttering behind long gold lashes. She reaches a hand up as though to catch it, encapsulate his weariness and tuck it far away, fingers drifting with pointed lightness over the curve of his bearded cheek. A tilt of her head, a hint of a smirk; she lets her touch drift down his neck, tracing lazy rivulets down the ripples of his chest, down and down and down his arm until she slips into his hand, the fingers knitting easily together as they agree upon their play.watching stars collide
She will never get used to the feeling of her hand in another, perfectly encapsulated by the breadth of his palm, enraptured and entrapped by calloused skin. As Deimos ponders his first question she raises it to her lips, the action almost idle, unplanned, as natural as taking in a breath. Hot breath ghosts across his knuckles, one after another as she watches him think, mischief glittering behind black eyes, her own questions brewing behind her gaze. He lowers his head as she reaches his thumb, and she hums a soft alto note across his fingers as though not quite sure the answer to his inquiry. "Anything can," she answers unhelpfully, smirking up over the hand on her mouth. "But no, I don't suppose you would want to, as it is."
Relaxing her hold, she takes a step backward, not to pull away from him so much as to think. Tawny head tilting thoughtfully, she makes a show of working hard, her brows knit into careful consideration as she tries to settle on a line of inquiry. "Is it useful, or decorative?" she asks at last, realizing belatedly that she is utterly lost, not sure how to narrow down from no idea to a tangible concept of what this might be.
