ma laila nō kāua
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#29
Amalia
the shield of safrin
She basks in the symphony of his mewls and hums, the guttural moans and the lustful gasps. It is the soundtrack to her eager ministrations, providing ambiance and encouragement, more scintillating and tantalizing than it has a right to be. Hearing him, feeling him, knowing it is she who makes him quake, brings the glacier flooding down back to the sea of her ardor- it is almost as invigorating as his hands upon her skin, the clenching of his legs around hers, the pressing of his hips.

She can feel him lingering at the edge of completion, can sense it in his tension and the warning of her name. A part of her aches to let him finish, to drive him to that great crescendo and taste him on her tongue in triumph; another wonders if it would not be better to prolong the sinful soliloquy, continue playing her notes upon him and letting him simmer beneath her embrace. To torture, to tease, the way he likes to do to her; to drive him wild with withheld ardor, to take him to the brink but stop before crashing, the rise and fall of tides before that final, glorious swell.

Were she different than what she is, Amalia might indeed have prolonged the inevitable: but she is not and has never been a patient or sinful girl. She is lustful and heady, wild and wanton, spurred on by the clear enjoyment of her lover and the dizzying knowledge that it is a pleasure she alone can provide. With renewed fervor the Shield lets her mouth trace paths along his length, right hand still following along the shaft as her left wraps eagerly over his hip. Unless he stops her she will continue until she has taken all he has, left him breathless and spent and sleepy, satisfied herself by triumph and love.
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#30
DEIMOS
Deimos thawed under her touch, always had, always would, no ice, no glacial chill, no isolated cold; fire and embers and unfurling flames, curling and contorting at the depth of her sway. His throat beckoned and his frame twisted, a conflagration already heading straight for the edge, intended infernos heightening at her influence, at her persuasion, at her insistence. The beast had no preference in their arts and oeuvres, in the contorted masterpieces and ambient expressions of their ardor; teasing and taunting insinuations, daring, challenging invoking clamors not standing on precipices or sands; would’ve taken anything and everything she offered. He could bear a slow, bestial torture, a sauntering, simmering ache, boundless and unraveling, wanton, wanton, wanton in her hands. He could carve a brutal onslaught, a siren song, a wild, savage occurrence, where feral ambitions and aspirations tangled with their upheavals, with their sedition, with the invigoration of scintillating desires. As long as it was her, he had no partiality; taking and granting and absconding with the ministrations she savored or the tantalizing, enticing, inveigling lust surrounding, pervading, and pulsing through their devotions.

But not by himself.

As much as he appreciated, encouraged, and writhed in her rapture, a devout reverie, a maelstrom, a tempest, a concoction he’d always willingly devour, he rose from his position, his hands reaching for her – not to stop, not to cease, but so they could burn together. A strong grasp and calloused palms intended to lift her, another sheath replacing whatever one had been lost in the interim, to slowly allow her to descend over him, engulf him, surround him again. It was one more sinuous, serpentine proposition, his caress, his touch, his strokes, flickering down along her waist as he leaned back along the bed, covers, and blankets, hooded gaze emblazoned and avaricious again, infernal splendor spread between them. A delicious, decadent invitation, incensed temptation, breathless again as hips bucked once more, intending to establish a rhythm, a semblance, along brinks and crashes and unleashed tides as she soared above him. Her name was still a grating song on the guttural groans, on the torturous eaves, on the impeccable, inevitable lunge; biting hunger and smoldering intentions to bring them both to release, again and again and again.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#31
Amalia
the shield of safrin
She would have continued along the lines of her ministrations, sang songs against his skin until he came wholly undone, unraveling and enlightened in her hands and lips. She would have brought him flying off the brink, entreated and teased until he was nothing but smoke and embers in the wind.

She would- but the Sword has other plans, and who is she to deny him his insistence when all she has ever wanted is to give him all she has? With a soft mewl of playful protest she allows her body to be drawn up, stopping to press a series of kisses to all the exposed skin she can reach before tangling her arms around his neck, black eyes bright and clouded with lust as she falls into his blue. As he works below she lets her mouth crash back upon his, wanton avarice as she devours him, her bare skin pressed sensually upon his, her hips rising obediently before dropping back down.

Amalia exhales a sharp, pleased gasp as Deimos fills her once again, her senses flooding, already sensitive and riding the edges of their earlier interludes. Rising up she arches her back, palms splayed upon his chest as the girl bites her lip, a leopard's sharp fangs drawing just a little blood. Exhaling a fervent, shuddering breath she begins to rise and fall, following the pace he sets in an easy, ardent rhythm, already on the cusp of her own repeat release.
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#32
DEIMOS
Perhaps he should’ve allowed her to work him until he was completely undone, a writhing mass of enlightened bones and released senses, skin aflame, refrains set to burst from his lungs, growling and pressing until there was no escape but in her essence, in her entity, in her presence, a tangible, unrelenting force of ardor and fervency. But part of their games had always been unpredictable throngs, chasing down the rules and then laying them to waste, charmed by the airs of mischief, deigned superior in the realm of devilry; and he sank into equality, into giving and taking and back again, casting any selfish, base needs to untamed collusion, to wild, feral, molten, smoldering unity.

There was a moment of protest, and had it not been immersed in playful antics he would’ve ceased altogether, her lips sending their caresses, their strokes, their heat, their passion on the rippling cords of his flesh. His gasps and reverberations were scintillating, ardent aches, drawn, sketched, and molded from her avid attention, moments and fragments he could have for all eternity – an electric hum on his skin, echoing on the boundaries of his lungs, of his throat, brimming, brewing, beseeching, breath ghosting and billowing back over her lips as she sought to devour and consume. He orchestrated the same, concocted and coiled and contorted the foundations of their ether on the plumes, on the embers, on the haze, mouth hungry and avaricious under her bewitching fervor, eyes closing just to feel, feel, feel, needing nothing else.

The beast swallowed her initial gasp, but then she was gone – rising back up on arches and splendor, palms, fingers, grasp on his chest (heartbeat riotous, chaotic, his savage drumbeat for her, for her, for her) while he maintained a rhythm beneath; waves and torrents, no shallows, but deep, illustrious fathoms. The undulations were long, lingering tides, his hands first on her hips, before drifting down, like the sea, like the sands, like the hot, hazy sun, sliding to her outer thighs; not allowing her to sink, but to glide, to hover, to float, to sail on the keening, tidal oscillations.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#33
Amalia
the shield of safrin
The beat of his heart beneath her fingers fuels her passion even more, drawing her closer to fervor, to fire, narrow cheeks flushed with the searing delight of him. Like a bird on gusts of foamy seas she skirts across his body, coasting, gliding, flying in her pleasure, feeling him fill her like the tides. His hands are on her hip, her thighs, grasping and pulling and easing and coaxing her closer and closer to that perfect edge.

The edge where she hovers, taut as a bow, strung between those calloused hands as tight as any bow. Her fingers linger over his chest, clenching, pulling, drawing down his skin: "Deimos," she hisses into the ether, his name her hymns, her vows, her songs, the anthem of her need. She is close, so close, clenched tight around him, her pace increasing as she grinds her hips against him.

Clawed toes curling into the sheets of the bed, Amalia arches her back as release crashes over her like a wave, her head falling back, hair cascading down her back, mewls and whimpers leaving her mouth in a cacophony of his name. She wants him to reach this crescendo with her, wants to carry him along in her bliss, and so she pushes back against him, her body down upon his skin as she searches, devours, eats and swallows, takes him between her lips and thighs with avarice and generosity, fervor and ardor.
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#34
DEIMOS
Pitch for pitch and crescendo for crescendo, waves and torrential storms bristling past his eyes, and he could see, feel, the siren swells plunging down over them, stare rekindled and ignited on her, for her, by her, as they coasted and coaxed. It was a rush of momentous heat and infernal boundaries, those fringes pressing and caressing down along spines and across his chest, beating, beating, beating wanton reveries and rapacious pleasure. He drew into her and she drew into him, no longer sketches or outlines but tapestries and fiendish, avaricious brushstrokes, more than needs and cravings, more than lust and ardor – his name an opus on her breath, and he arced and simmered, smoldered and bucked, played those raptures down the breadth of her thighs and the connection below hips.

Her release was a portrait of ecstasy, rising plumes and molten songs, and he wanted to climb and clamber along with her, her name a whisper, a croon, a hymn, a rite, a psalm, across his tongue, behind his teeth. It doesn’t take much more, not with her presence like a sanctum, like a pledge, like a vow along her heavenly bliss, flushed and drawn in her essence as she maneuvered across him. They were pieces and portals and sanctions of oblivion, and he was sated, content, unfurled, unchained, untethered along her hands, mouths upon mouths, her ministrations swallowing him down – until the Sword finally felt the oncoming rush, joined her in liberation and providence, a growl, a murmur, a feverish hiss above whimpers and mewls – her name was a groan, a gasp, a sigh dwindling across his lips and over her cheeks, along her brow, pressed into her hair.

Then he collapsed completely back along the bed, pillows and blankets and everything twisted, turned, in piles, heaps, and entanglements, a warm chuckle residing and echoing from his chest when they were satisfied and complete. His hands lingered on their incline, brushing past the slightest of her curves, gaze a portal of adoration and devotion as he surveyed her again, fingers finally coming to rest along her face, pushing back bits of hair. They could remain in the afterglow for as long as she wanted or desired; he had no misgivings, below and beneath her power, her movements, her motions. The accord of his Cheshire grin curled and coiled though, wild locks everywhere, some manifested statue of satisfaction, bliss, and still warrior machinations outlined in his presence. “This is where we needed to be,” in reference to their complete utter lack of misgivings; no General outposts, no bakery assignations, certain, the accord to his voice solidifying the notion. The beast’s stare only slid away from her to glance out the window, ascertaining the time and how much had passed since they’d simply enjoyed one another. They swept back and riveted to her presence once more, an arch to his brow. “Breakfast or a bath?”
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#35
Amalia
the shield of safrin
He collapses and she falls down with him, her naked figure tucked against him, her fingers reaching out to coil in the tufts of hair upon his chest. Awash in sunlight and satisfaction Amalia is more than content to let the moment linger, enjoying the simple pleasure of his company, basking in the glow of their shared release. Lazy and languid she traces his scars, light caresses as she memorizes them, her roadmap to him, the tale of his past. He does the same for her, and she hums, rising up to meet his caresses, turning her face into his touch. "Yes," she agrees to his declaration, adoration in the dark of her eyes. "This is what we needed."

But then at last it is time to rise from the comfort of the bed. A sound of protest escapes her lips as her lover pulls away, reluctant to let him go for even a moment, longing for his warmth. He is right, though: they need to clean, and to eat, though an alarming growl from Amalia's stomach declares what order it should be done in. "Food first, I think," the Shield laughs, a warm blush on her angular cheeks as she rises up upon the bed, stretching her arms and preparing to leave it at last.
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#36
DEIMOS
If they could persist and carry on for eternity in this state, in these statures, in the pieces and pockets of bliss, with nothing and no one to cease their rise and fall, then he’d take it, grasp it, hold it tight. But there were other needs, other wants, other things to attend to; the lightest chuckle roaming and coiling through his chest at the rumble of her stomach, at the choices made for them. He didn’t pull away for long, staying along the interval of her arms and hands, mouth brushing over lips, along brows, across her jaw while he untangled himself from sheets and blankets.

His hands found her hips and gently lifted her from the bed, waiting for her legs to unfold, still scorching, still teasing, still taunting in his touch, billowing breath fanning along her cheeks until he was a ghost in the doorway – finding his boxers and pants along the way. He tilted his head in a mocking sort of challenge, a race down the stairs instead of ascension, only this time he had wings, feathers, and plumes too. “Food first,” he obliged and concurred, the slightest, infernal grin angling itself across his lips, before crossing beyond doors and over thresholds, using her past machinations against her – shifting, shifting, shifting, until he was eagle, plummeting and descending down the corridors.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#37
Amalia
the shield of safrin
He lifts her from the bed and she follows obligingly, feeling weightless in his hands, a warm and delighted laugh resounding through the little room. As Deimos finds his boxers Amalia hunts for one of his shirt, pulling it over her head and following through with underwear from her (her!) drawer of clothes. By the time she turns back he is already clothed, standing near the staircase, a challenge in his eyes.

Ah, so he wants a repeat, does he? The owl is more than happy to oblige.

She shifts with the ease of the frequently practiced, pulling a cloak of feathers around her, avian skin fitting neatly over her slender form. Leaping up behind him she leaps into the air, wings beating in a powerful stroke before pulling tight around her, plunging, descending, a bullet in silver, a streak of tawny starlight. It's not enough to beat the eagle, of course, but as she shifts back and lands on her feet Amalia is laughing, delighted in the simple act of play. "You're always so big," she says with mock sulkiness, sticking out her tongue. "How am I supposed to compete?"
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#38
DEIMOS
The fervency behind him was electric, singeing, a smoldering descent ensuring his fortitude and might in the pursuit of the bottom half of his house; her taunting, her challenge emboldening his persistence. By the time they both swiftly encountered the floor, it was still all in gestures of play, in audacious fortune, in content upheaval – the kind that settled deep into his chest, into his heart, instead of sparking darker, treacherous canals and fissures of revolution. He arched his brow, snorting at her latest scorn, though it was light and airy, no harm, no foul. The beast meandered to the kitchen, rustling through egg cartons and portions of bread. “You had your time,” her claims, her champion feats amongst the Attuned ramparts; he insisted with the slightest of shrugs, a shake of his head. It was all very childish and he didn’t really care, drawn and driven to juvenile, mischievous tactics when he was content, when he was happy (events marked and chiseled down due to their rarity).

But he will never be better than her in shifted forms – she must know that – so the diverting fray was really just for amusing purposes. While he laughed, a boyish, coursing chuckle, he also found preserved portions of bacon, leftover on the off chance they might have an opportunity to relish it before LongNight’s expanse, grabbing hold of a pan and settling the strands over the stove, waiting for them to sizzle and cook.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#39
Amalia
the shield of safrin
As Deimos works his way through the kitchen, Amalia slips out into the cold, letting thick fur grow out over her figure, protecting her bare skin from the chill. Stepping lightly over snow she finds the growth that lingers through winter, putting together an aromatic bouquet of pine and holly, snowdrops and sprigs. Perhaps it is foolish, childish, a waste of time, but it makes the girl happy to see life inside the house, especially in winter.

Returning inside to hunt for a vase, Amalia pauses a little behind Deimos, standing on tiptoes to look over his shoulder, the plants still in her hand. "Smells delicious. Do you have something I can put these in?" She shows her bouquet with no small amount of pride, confident he does not have a vase but knowing he can make one easily enough.
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#40
DEIMOS
He kept himself occupied along the thrall of an opening door, her leopard intervals lingering along the aperture, drifting back out into the cold – he embraced the chill of the wind against his skin for a moment’s glacial snap, before returning to breakfast. The bacon was turned, the eggs were cooking and occupying another pan, and the bread was warming. In Amalia’s absence, he also took care of the fire along the hearth, stuffing pieces of paper, wrapping the kindling in its contents, and piling logs upon logs, eventually stoking broad, vibrant flames.

She found him again back along the kitchen, threading his way through with plates, spatula turning over rasps of food; his head turning to glance over his shoulder at her proffered wares. The Sword’s eyes flickered down to what she’d gathered; the scents invoking some age-old, primordial nostalgia, adrift on winter berries, holly, pine, and snowdrop sprigs, suddenly longing for the mountains all over again. His smile drifted back, only arching his brow at her pondering of a vase (as if he had any along this threshold; because he couldn’t use such a décor as a weapon, and ordinarily, he wasn’t much for adornments…unless munitions along the walls counted). “Hang on,” and he placed his cooking utensils down, ensuring his hands were no longer occupied – gilded creation echoes and reverberations extended through his palms. Eventually, the vessel was concocted; only from fragments of his memories, quiet, unassuming things nestled in past lives. It was simple, lacking in ornate designs or fragments, no artisan heraldry to its claim. Maybe the bouquet would be enough.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#41
Amalia
the shield of safrin
Deimos may be spartan in decor, but he has invited Amalia to live with him now, a request which, if serious, will result in certain changes. Speaking of which- as the Shield takes the vase from him she frowns slightly in thought, suddenly uncertain, insecure, not sure whether to push the issue or simply let it lie.

As Drimos finishes preparing breakfast Amalia arranges the boughs, placing them in the middle of the table, a decoration to keep them company as they eat. Sliding into a seat at the table, Amalia leans over on her elbow, a smile on her lips. "I could get used to this," the girl murmurs, her eyes raking playfully and appreciatively over Deimos' exposed skin. "Especially if... if I do start spending more time here. If you still want that. Because I... I really do."
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#42
DEIMOS
As he handed her the vase, he couldn’t quite ascertain the reason for her frown, if something was off; furrowing his brow slightly in response, and once the bouquet had found its sanctuary, he returned to tending to the food. Had he erred again? There were always certain twists and turns he couldn’t quite fathom, too out of his routine or normalcy, why he sometimes preferred shadows to the light, why he’d remained detached and indifferent, brooding and brewing, for such lengthy periods of time. While his ice thawed, slowly, sometimes he was left out in another field, uncertain, unsure, of wheres, whens, whys, or hows, only brandishing confusion now while he placed the cooked bacon on a plate, stirring the eggs one more time.

When he brought everything else to the table, amongst the newly spread pine and holly, her smile had reappeared, so he remained composed, slightly relieved even in the midst of the perilous unknown. Ah, there it was, the notions immersed from her mouth as he started sharing breakfast, sliding plates over and filling them. “I do,” he smiled, fond and devoted; perhaps she wasn’t used to his modicum of words yet – that they always held a significant weight, that they weren’t brandished to simply fill the air or float along the ether. It was much the same in the Basin, along the throngs of Isilme after death, devastation, and loss; nothing useless, eternally precise, built for necessity.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in


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