asterion
He watches her smile spread across her dark lips like it is art. For him it is: a thing of beauty, with a touch of mystery – something he can’t fully understand, not yet, but would gladly give his life to studying. Asterion would be a scholar of that smile, of the touch of starshine in her eyes.
The twilight bay does not expect her apology and he sorrows at the hitch of her lips, the tremble like a river-eddy beneath her skin.
“Sorry?” he asks, and for a moment his brow creases, his dark gaze searching hers. “But you did nothing wrong –”
He does not get the chance to say anything else, for that is when she kisses him, and all the thoughts run out of his head like sea-foam.
There is only the press of her lips against his, the heat from her nearness, the static livewires of his nerves. Before he can react, before he can claim a deeper kiss, she withdraws. All he can do then is laugh a soft little laugh, less in humor than in happiness. In wonder.
Then he grins, and almost shyly ducks his head, glancing at her through a forelock tangled with sea-salt and dusted with silver paint.
“Well,” he says, and breathes another laugh when he finds he can’t quite gather his thoughts. Suddenly the night, already remarkable, seems to hold nothing but promise. Like every fire was lit for them, every star is shining for them. He had thought it would close things off, to belong – but oh, how his universe has opened.
And then his belly rumbles, audible to him even over the music, the laughter, the cacophony of the festival. In his nervousness, in his worry (and in his drinking, to settle such things) Asterion had forgotten to eat. His smile turns wry, and he lifts a brow at her, steady even as his heart is still catching its breath. “I’m starving,” he admits, as though it is a weakness. “Help me find something?”
@Aislinn cinnamon roll needs a cinnamon roll xD
The twilight bay does not expect her apology and he sorrows at the hitch of her lips, the tremble like a river-eddy beneath her skin.
“Sorry?” he asks, and for a moment his brow creases, his dark gaze searching hers. “But you did nothing wrong –”
He does not get the chance to say anything else, for that is when she kisses him, and all the thoughts run out of his head like sea-foam.
There is only the press of her lips against his, the heat from her nearness, the static livewires of his nerves. Before he can react, before he can claim a deeper kiss, she withdraws. All he can do then is laugh a soft little laugh, less in humor than in happiness. In wonder.
Then he grins, and almost shyly ducks his head, glancing at her through a forelock tangled with sea-salt and dusted with silver paint.
“Well,” he says, and breathes another laugh when he finds he can’t quite gather his thoughts. Suddenly the night, already remarkable, seems to hold nothing but promise. Like every fire was lit for them, every star is shining for them. He had thought it would close things off, to belong – but oh, how his universe has opened.
And then his belly rumbles, audible to him even over the music, the laughter, the cacophony of the festival. In his nervousness, in his worry (and in his drinking, to settle such things) Asterion had forgotten to eat. His smile turns wry, and he lifts a brow at her, steady even as his heart is still catching its breath. “I’m starving,” he admits, as though it is a weakness. “Help me find something?”
@Aislinn cinnamon roll needs a cinnamon roll xD
