Aurelia
don't worry about the
darkness in my soul
darkness in my soul
His thickly accented voice is still clear within her mind in spite of the shift back, in spite of the fact that his mouth doesn't move. She can feel the flick of his whiskers against her palm just before it turns to stubble, and her hand covers the rough scar that drapes across his cheek. Her gaze bores against his, eyes grown darker now even in their pale color, but before she can try to decipher the thoughts behind his own eyes he's pulling her in against him.
His voice is a husky rumble in her ears and she presses her cheek in against his, shutting her eyes closed. She breathes him in deep as her other hand presses against his chest. The exhale is choppy, her breath splintering as she feels the beat of his heart beneath her palm. She can feel the strength in each thud, can feel the minute tremor of it throughout his rib cage, accentuated by his trembling.
She pulls back enough to look at him, to bend her neck and press her forehead gently against his, eyelids low over her eyes. The hand at his cheek remains there, fingers grazing over his scar toward the edges of his chin.
Sweat beads along her temple. The tip of her nose angles against the side of his, and she doesn't think they've ever been this close before.
Contrasting feelings ricochet between this is stupid and I've wanted to do this for so long... and she hesitates. "Jata...?" It's a question, maybe a warning.
His voice is a husky rumble in her ears and she presses her cheek in against his, shutting her eyes closed. She breathes him in deep as her other hand presses against his chest. The exhale is choppy, her breath splintering as she feels the beat of his heart beneath her palm. She can feel the strength in each thud, can feel the minute tremor of it throughout his rib cage, accentuated by his trembling.
She pulls back enough to look at him, to bend her neck and press her forehead gently against his, eyelids low over her eyes. The hand at his cheek remains there, fingers grazing over his scar toward the edges of his chin.
Sweat beads along her temple. The tip of her nose angles against the side of his, and she doesn't think they've ever been this close before.
Contrasting feelings ricochet between this is stupid and I've wanted to do this for so long... and she hesitates. "Jata...?" It's a question, maybe a warning.
it ignites me
like an embered coal
like an embered coal
