She meets his embrace and she can feel that her body instantly relaxes against him. She presses herself closer to him, as if she could wedge her body even more tightly against his own. She relishes the tender caresses that he places along her nape and withers, enjoying the way his touch made her heart flutter deep within her chest. It is a moment that she wants to relish, even if she knows what will come next will only last but a moment.
His compliment brings the smile brighter against her face, enjoying the compliment. She had never been one to enjoy such words from others, finding such things mostly unnecessary. But since first meeting Metaphor, she cannot help but want more from him. She found that she enjoyed the compliments, the stolen caresses, and his constant companionship.
Since their discussion in the dead of winter, Katniss had thought a lot about what she saw for her future with Metaphor. She was entrapped in war games, her heart battling so hard with her mind. She needed to fight for Denocte, to avenge all those who had caused Denocte so much pain. But in the same breath, she could not deny the love she felt for Metaphor. Having grown up thinking that love was weakness and was something to be suppressed, she had grown so much. She now happily admitted that she loved the sorrel stallion and she wanted a future with him.
Perhaps the two of them would have had a family much sooner, but Katniss had always been weary of children, unsure of what to do. She had no maternal instincts and she had been a poor mother when she had been given the opportunity. It had been a mistake and her daughters had suffered so much for that. But in this moment, she had confidence that Metaphor would not leave her like her last lover. She was confident in his knowledge that she would be a great mother. Time had helped her mature and no longer was she a naïve three year old. She was a mature woman. But she was still scared. She did not have those maternal instincts that she had seen so many have. Perhaps it came with motherhood and would come when she met her child for the first time. It was still so scary.
Her mind is a flurry of thoughts and reservations, of hopes, and of promises. She had to trust in what she had with Metaphor. Now was their time. She had planned this evening so perfectly and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Hormones were a funny thing, easing the mind into trusting the unknown. She took a deep breath, trying to relax her nerves and just enjoy this moment with Metaphor. “I have done quite a bit of thinking…” Her voice fades softly as she searches for the right words. Now the pressure was on and she could not ruin this beautiful moment. “I want to see you as a father, Metaphor. You will be such a perfect father…” Lips lipped nervously at his mane, trying so hard to find the perfect words. “…I want to trust that I will be a better mother, that my love for you will prevent history from repeating itself.” Her tone is nervous, portraying the nerves that she felt in every inch of her body. And yet, she wanted him to know that despite her nerves, she trusted what they had together.
She steps forward, her body brushing alongside his own, touching each inch of his skin as she turns around at his rump, traveling back up his body. Neck arches into his own, the comfort she draws from him is instantaneous. She turns her body so she can face him, eye to eye. She wants him to see that she trusts him unconditionally. “I want to give you the world.” Head dips low so her forehead could press to his own. Eyes flutter closed and she takes a moment to just enjoy this soft moment of peace.
@Metaphor
