blood to the moonlight. slipping out of your
bones, and slithering into the soul of someone else
It is dreadfully silent beyond the falls; save for the stirring of her heartbeat, and the kiss-and-tell rivers, that pour through the earth with their many icy mouths. The river-waters bristle, like crystalline furs upon a ghoulish wind. Against the blooming forest-darkness, Andromeda purrs, too; slipping beneath the shadowy-penumbra with each delicate, feline hiss. Winter shades paints the landscape a bone-white thing; pale desire, weaving amongst the pines, in spells of silver-wild; all that which screamed for the promise of winter's howling violence. Andromeda, however, so loves the frigid cold; she loves the thick pine trees, drizzled in heavy snows, that which swayed in wintry rhythms and bewitching shadow.
A single breeze stirs overhead, ruffling Andromeda's too-long hair; smoothing down buxom curves with a wintry sigh. Andromeda dances with the darkness she feels in her heart, drawn to the musky scent of virility, layered like whiskey amongst the wilderness. Her heart pulses like a wardrum, with each step she takes - each beat singing with passion in the violent fable-rise of the river-mist. In the distance, the surging azuline-waters could be heard pounding the ragged grey below; its breathless whispers that infinitely tease, brushing hellward and violently spilling across the jagged rocks. Andromeda lifts her gaze, slowly; a fiery ritual of witch-like decadence.
She draws nearer to him, descending the sides of the river, till she finds the dark-skinned titan amongst the whiteness of winter, all by himself. Her steps were like a leopardess'; smooth footfalls silent and coyly feline among the waters. She leans against a moist boulder, licking her pale lips, subtly. Her lavender hair spills across her shoulders. Andromeda is both candour and celestial femininity, as she catches him with her amber-wicked gaze. Her body is slender and infinitely lithe; their saccharine-sweet melody, unfolding across sun-kissed curves; her jasmine-touched skin, glimmering against long, porcelain points and their impossible slenderness. Andromeda is draped in a gown of fire. Even as winter embraces her, Andromeda glows, glows; her embers, flickering and growling, against her slender, girlish form.
"You should taste the water," A warm croon hopes to find him, her syllables dripping, effortlessly. Her amber gaze, draws a hard piercing line along his lean form, carefully studying the shadows of his face and body. Andromeda is analyzing, observing, and gracefully stoic. There is apart of her that wants to come closer; she wants to press her lips to his brow, and taste all the places he'd been, but she is cautious of him, yet. "It is sweet," Her whisper is dark, and soft; an alluring whisper, made more for dreams than they do reality. Even for all her flames, her words flow as hot as black ice. Winter dances along her lips, and her smile becomes as faint as a newly-born moon.
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