He sees the blush as it creeps along her cheeks, he sees the way she dips her head, hiding behind a crimson veil of curled hair.
With a retort that snaps like a whip, Rhoswen breaches the chasm his withdrawal had drawn between them. For all that her retort cracks like a whip, it’s sting, its bite, is gone. Now, all her flame-licked words do is pull a smile from his lips. “Were you always this distracted?” The Crow counters, eyes lowering to her bucket pointedly.
He wades through the river as liquid as the waters rushing past. They push him back towards her, but their efforts are not needed for he suddenly hears the splash of water as she pursues him.
That dismissive snort has him tilting his head to regard her, the sway of her body, the length of lithe, lithe limbs and the fire in her eyes. He renews his efforts filling his own buckets, even when she tails him, even when its all his eyes wish to do to watch her as though she were some undiscovered wonder of the world.
The Sun Girl’s question is sharp, playful. She is the lioness set to play, with her claws well hidden. Denocte’s Ghost feels little more than a mouse in her sights at this moment. But he has been handing this creature since childhood. He knows what her claws feel like.
He knows Rose.
Despite this, he cannot help the way his eyes trail the line of her neck, the dance of her slender limbs. No one as fiery as she should be so at ease in water. The quicksilver boy stops at last to regard her as she approaches. It’s only when she stops before him, that his eyes narrow, his head lowering to meet her own before his gaze lips pointedly by her. “Forgot your buckets again, Rose?” The Crow murmurs pointedly , his brows lifted, his gaze slyly. “It’s a wonder you made it this far.” He murmurs again, half despairing, half in jest.
Her buckets meander their way downstream half submersed, half afloat as they bob away. His gaze returns to her, the electricity to her stormy eyes. Lazily, he lets his eyes trail over her face, close as they are. He does not rush as he takes in every line of red-silver skin, the glow of her eyes, warm as whisky and as wild as a storm. “Hell.” He says in a voice like a purr, his look suddenly feline, dangerous. She was not the only creature with claws, the grasp of his knife upon his leg is remembrance enough...
“Hell, is my one word for Solterra.” There is no ounce of humour as he confirms his answer. But he does not let his gaze leave from her. He feels the torturous heat of the sun, the absence of water, of shadows, of Crows.
To have her here too, a creature of fire and temptation, is surely hell.
He turns back away from her, continuing to pull his own buckets along, collecting water as he goes. “You may wish to get your buckets, unless you are planning a trip downstream?” He calls back to the girl of fire and smoke.
@Rhoswen <3
With a retort that snaps like a whip, Rhoswen breaches the chasm his withdrawal had drawn between them. For all that her retort cracks like a whip, it’s sting, its bite, is gone. Now, all her flame-licked words do is pull a smile from his lips. “Were you always this distracted?” The Crow counters, eyes lowering to her bucket pointedly.
He wades through the river as liquid as the waters rushing past. They push him back towards her, but their efforts are not needed for he suddenly hears the splash of water as she pursues him.
That dismissive snort has him tilting his head to regard her, the sway of her body, the length of lithe, lithe limbs and the fire in her eyes. He renews his efforts filling his own buckets, even when she tails him, even when its all his eyes wish to do to watch her as though she were some undiscovered wonder of the world.
The Sun Girl’s question is sharp, playful. She is the lioness set to play, with her claws well hidden. Denocte’s Ghost feels little more than a mouse in her sights at this moment. But he has been handing this creature since childhood. He knows what her claws feel like.
He knows Rose.
Despite this, he cannot help the way his eyes trail the line of her neck, the dance of her slender limbs. No one as fiery as she should be so at ease in water. The quicksilver boy stops at last to regard her as she approaches. It’s only when she stops before him, that his eyes narrow, his head lowering to meet her own before his gaze lips pointedly by her. “Forgot your buckets again, Rose?” The Crow murmurs pointedly , his brows lifted, his gaze slyly. “It’s a wonder you made it this far.” He murmurs again, half despairing, half in jest.
Her buckets meander their way downstream half submersed, half afloat as they bob away. His gaze returns to her, the electricity to her stormy eyes. Lazily, he lets his eyes trail over her face, close as they are. He does not rush as he takes in every line of red-silver skin, the glow of her eyes, warm as whisky and as wild as a storm. “Hell.” He says in a voice like a purr, his look suddenly feline, dangerous. She was not the only creature with claws, the grasp of his knife upon his leg is remembrance enough...
“Hell, is my one word for Solterra.” There is no ounce of humour as he confirms his answer. But he does not let his gaze leave from her. He feels the torturous heat of the sun, the absence of water, of shadows, of Crows.
To have her here too, a creature of fire and temptation, is surely hell.
He turns back away from her, continuing to pull his own buckets along, collecting water as he goes. “You may wish to get your buckets, unless you are planning a trip downstream?” He calls back to the girl of fire and smoke.
@Rhoswen <3
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
