AmaLIa
shield of safrin
The slightest movement, skin alone; the rest of him stays still. Does he doubt her? He would be well within his rights to, she thinks, but still her hand remains. It's a line between them, as much a reminder for him as herself. She chose this, chose him, scars and darkness, sanctum and light.
When his hand eases over hers it's a rescue she doesn't deserve, but one she clings to nonetheless. "I know," a whisper in response, the other hand raising to hold his cheek, guiding it, holding it, a promise in her eyes. His head descends, crown to crown; she lets her eyes close and inhales deeply, taking in his scent. "Me neither."
She keeps her left hand on his face, his right upon his chest. Rising onto tiptoes, Amalia tilts her face up further, coral lips seeking his, tender and frightened and pleading for response. His heartbeat is the drum that keeps her own pulse moving; she thinks she might turn to ice as well, without his heat to warm her.
When his hand eases over hers it's a rescue she doesn't deserve, but one she clings to nonetheless. "I know," a whisper in response, the other hand raising to hold his cheek, guiding it, holding it, a promise in her eyes. His head descends, crown to crown; she lets her eyes close and inhales deeply, taking in his scent. "Me neither."
She keeps her left hand on his face, his right upon his chest. Rising onto tiptoes, Amalia tilts her face up further, coral lips seeking his, tender and frightened and pleading for response. His heartbeat is the drum that keeps her own pulse moving; she thinks she might turn to ice as well, without his heat to warm her.
you can't choose what stays
and what fades away
and what fades away
