even a n g e l s fall
He burns, he burns like the raging fingers of a nightmare. But with the gentlest of touches from a dream. Killdare. His name rolls from my tongue with the ease of breathing. Killdare. His name etches into my skin, with every touch, with every look. I am his, and only his. I am torn between Chamber and him, yet it is both that burns within me, scores marks into my flesh, unseen. He was a dragon, eyes of jade. His touch still seems rife against my golden skin. Even now, in winter's grasp, I feel the warmth of him strewn across me, his breath against my face. His newly adorned wings draping me.
The gift from the Chamber, from the Faerie. It has gotten some getting used to. Where am quite striking, like a flame in the dark, I blend in, golden sheen merging into the pines and the shadow. At first it was only half of me and the feeling was quite erratic. Now I had gotten accustomed to it. Blending into my home, like an extension of the shadows and the pine. And I watch him, watch him with sapphire eyes burning like the heart of flame that scorched the tree. I watch him without the need to slink over, to muffle my hoof steps. Oh, but regardless I know he knows I am watching. I do not doubt my knight's abilities. We had shared much in our time here, blood, tears and sweat. We have shared a blossoming flower, a seed even. He knows me like the ingrained pine. And I know him, like the earth that slips beneath my feet. We are one and we walk the same path, souls intertwined, hearts misshapen and reshaped like hot iron As one.
The frostbitten breeze touches me, and goes right through my body as I walk closer, like a ghost, unseen, unheard. I reach out and touch him, from his earthy coloured loins, across his flank, along his sturdy ribcage, where I tenderly lip at the new addition to his side. Slow, seductively slow, I nibble at his withers, his shoulder until I appear, crown first, then neck and finally all of my blossoming form. The smile of knowing, of promise, etches my lips. 'Who knew my beautiful knight would come flying in upon dragon wings?' my voice is ever soft, ever gentle. For him, only for him. I reach my muzzle, silken touch pressing against his neck, moving along and upward to lip gently at his jawline.
'I've missed you.' As if time has slipped from minutes to hours and days to eternal damnation. If only but a few hours and my soul yearns for him, my skin yields for his touch and his touch alone. My voice is silken lace, smooth, alluring as it comes like sashaying plumes of delicate breath. I sidle right up to him, golden skin burning brighter than the flame, burning for him, for my earthy prince.
engelsfors
advisor of the chamber
I am a sap. =]