i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
He feels her before he sees her, or even smells her. She is like a mist moving along with the breeze, and immediately he knows she is here, here in his kingdom. He feels his breath catch in his throat, feels his ribs squeezing painfully on his lungs and heart. Smolder, and only her, could illicit this response from him.
The smell of lilac bleeds through the mist, and though he’d like nothing more than to blow the scent from his nostrils…he drinks deeply of it, like a drunk dragging on their last bottle of wine. But there is something beneath that scent, bitter like fever sweat. He closes his eyes as she sidles up along his muscular shoulder, half afraid to look at her for fear of what he would see there. Whatever was wrong with her, whatever was responsible for that sickening scent on her skin, it was his fault. His fault. He remembers vividly their last meeting, and though he wishes he could forget it, it plays like a loop in his brain. Hateful words spit like bullets, flashing eyes and pinned ears. His fault. But she is here now, alive somehow though certainly broken. “Smolder…” he chokes, his voice breaking like glass. He shivers as her warm breath meets his damp skin, and its all he can do not to lean into the feeling. No, he tells himself, that time is gone. Instead he stands tall and rock-like, staring into the forest as hard as he knows how.
But he knows he can’t hold this façade for long, not with her pleading so desperately at his side. She is a woman wanting, and he’s never been one to deny her. With a sigh he turns his head and his eyes meet hers, searching them desperately for something that was once so bright there. She is still the same Smolder- big doe eyes colored blue, rosey gray fur clinging to those all-too familiar slopes and angles. Those angles are sharper now though, and it pains him to see. Her coat is dull, as are her eyes, and in that moment he hates the very ground he walks on. His fault.
“Shes gone.” he says flatly, turning back towards the forest and staring into its depths. He’s trying hard to stay concrete, but she’s making it difficult. Yes, their daughter was gone who knows where. She’d left him with out so much as a backwards glance in much the same fashion her mother had. They were certainly mother and daughter, for both knew how to push his buttons to the utmost. Warship hoped every day that she was well, but he knew better than to go searching for her. He had nothing to say anyways, even if he did manage to find her. She was set in her ways, and he in his. They were two parts of the same half, whether they liked to admit it or not. Smolder speaks again, bringing him from his bitter memories, and he’s shocked at what he hears in her voice. She’d never been one to beg but beg she does, pleading something from him he’s unsure he should give. He couldn’t, wouldn’t put himself through this again. He couldn’t, wouldn’t put her through this again. What is they were fire and gasoline, never meant to be? But the desperation in her voice is very real, and it pains him to hear. Finally he turns back to her, his lips finding the crest of her neck. He chews lightly at her ratty mane, tasting lilac and smoke. His lips find her throat and he kisses her there, knowing how foolish this is but in the moment not giving a damn. “I don’t have to pretend, Smolder. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed every last minute with you…” he says heavily, closing his eyes and simply feeling her. She was here, now, and maybe just maybe…they could make up for lost time.
warship
