This hurricane's chasing us all underground
these dreams haunt me, like the ghost of your lips, moving along my neck. she has not slept all night, even with her bedroom windows splayed wide to receive the soft moonlight that descends low, low; like silver-curtains, falling into a dark, breeze-filled room. each night she dreams of dreamcatcher eyes - the ripple of oceans, along cobalt waves - shining, in the darkness. every night she hears the roar of the seas, agitated by thirst and hunger. the sharp whisper of desire, curling from the maws of sharks and other predarory creatures, that hide like criminals among their ravenous tide. every night, she sleeps to the seductive hymn of waves. the endless siren call that pulls for her heart like an ocean pulled by the moon; each melody, soft and beckoning. a whisper of lust, breathless heat, accompanying each fervent dream of the restless seas. she knows the face to all these dreams. she knows each memory, like artform. they remain just that, however; just dreams. o, but when she stirs along her bed, they feel more like fevers, than they do just dreams. wild and untamed, like the sea.
when euryale finally leaves her cabin home by the desolate lakes of delumine, euryale descends from fur-lined bedsheets and candlelit warmth, into the nordic beauty of winter. when she steps outside, december becomes more than a frigid bite, that kisses her lips with both hunger and need. it's morning heat, that touches her now. heat, from the bright sun, that caresses her crimson bodice with a begging want enough to fill the empty stomachs of starving wolves. heat, slides against her svelte frame. enveloping, the lilac-haired banshee in an ocean of too-hot silk gold. and when the sun wakes behind ominous mountains, a spell is cast over the earth. dawn, becomes a sharp glow of warmth, of need. embracing euryale in a sea of basking flame and ophidian heat. the gold hugs her waist. her curves. her sultry bodice, smoothed in holiest of ichor. the gold makes a halo of her elegantly-carved skull, burning brightly like a hundred angels descending heaven, at once.
although winter touches her lips - frigid and cold - dawn beams, up above her. a dragon set high upon the celestial heavens, looking down with a passionate hunger. it's sunlight, that lingers around soft nimbus clouds, as the sun's first rays slides upon euryale's backline like the smooth, crawling fingertips of lovers caught in sensual throes.
all around her, ashen dots fall. snowy and pristine; dusted specks of porcelain flurry that look more like ash, than they do snow. the morning ushers tranquillity, and a soothing calm momentarily arrests her. a calm that feels almost holy, with the cool winter morning, until her hungry eyes follows the rippling musculature of the heathen prince. the wild and lone devil, she knows to be erasmus. darkness emanates all around his sleek form. his aether whips with a furious vengeance; tendrils of violent fervor, devouring all the sunlight in his wake. he is consuming smoke and mirrors. drawn to his shadowy anatomy, the witch draws closer. those sultry, feminine hips an elegant sashay of light, dancing motion as she quietly threads the snow. following behind him, closely. "i thought night was fast approaching, and all too soon," her voice is an icy caress, obsidian lashes fluttering above her soft, porcelain cheekbones as a thin ribbon of aether caresses her thighs, and she hopes to whisper her words above his right shoulder. her taunting is soft. a hiss of laughter, dancing silver-cold along her vampiric lips. "and here i thought you were purely nocturnal."
@Erasmus
and a riot about to explode into flames
