01-17-2022, 12:21 PM
Este
She will never see Illum the way that sees himself, and if she ever heard him say that he thought he should let her go, she would argue with him until her last breath.
She does not know how he cannot see that he is everything brilliant and enchanting, that the very night sky above pales in comparison to his night that he controls. That the way he softens at the edges seemingly only for her draws her in like a magnet, and even if he tried to let her go, she would never leave.
How when he threads his darkness through her silver hair he only ensnares her further, solidifying her internal decision to craft herself into exactly the girl he wants her to be—to do anything to keep him.
“Your stars,” she clarifies for him willingly, with a sureness that strengthens her otherwise breathless whisper. She has never been bold, this little angel that the dark tried so hard to smother before she had a chance to find her light. But there is something about Illum that makes her feel forward and shameless, a sense of urgency that makes her afraid of letting him slip away if she is not careful. He could have anyone at all but instead he is standing here and kissing her throat, her neck, her shoulder—he is tangling his night sky into her hair and his breath is skimming across her skin.
He is crafting her stars and galaxies and she has absolutely nothing that she can offer him in return—nothing except for a light that he does not want.
She does not want to give him a reason to leave, to think for a single second that she is not enamored by him. She would starve herself of the light she needs if it meant that he would keep her close, and it is why with that same bone-deep need to please she shifts when he asks.
Her angel wings unfurl like an opening flower petal from where he had touched, followed by a ring of rose-gold light that haloes her head. The soft glow of her aura brushes against the darkness he drapes across her, not entirely pushing it away but instead seeming to lure it in closer. A shiver races along her spine where his shadows touch her, and she finds herself stepping into him, pressing her warm lips to his shoulder. She lingers there for a moment, letting her lips caress their way slowly up towards his back, and then the base of his wing. There is an unfamiliar want building inside of her, tightening and coiling and she does not even realize that she is sending the tangled knot of emotions from her chest to his. She did not often use her empathy, thinking that it felt intrusive to be able to read how someone was feeling, and she had never tried to project her own feelings onto someone else. But with Illum’s shadows and mouth laying claim to her body, with her heart beating harder and harder with each passing moment, she begins to lose control without even realizing it.
“I don’t know,” she answers him, breathless and tremulous. She doesn’t have an answer because no one has ever touched her other than him, and until this moment she had never dared to imagine anything further. He had hoped earlier that she was not like her mother in a different way, but this, too, is where the angels diverged.
Este was untouched.
Her heart was fully intact, having never been broken apart by anyone, ever. She had endured hardships, but heartbreak had not been one of them.
She was a blank canvas made entirely for him, and she is not sure that he realizes that.
“But I want you to show me,” she murmurs into his neck, another surge of emotion spreading into him when he calls her love—an explosion of adoration and desire and things she still does not have a name for. “Illum,” she whispers his name with a tension that had not been there before, a plea and granted permission rolled into one.
She does not know how he cannot see that he is everything brilliant and enchanting, that the very night sky above pales in comparison to his night that he controls. That the way he softens at the edges seemingly only for her draws her in like a magnet, and even if he tried to let her go, she would never leave.
How when he threads his darkness through her silver hair he only ensnares her further, solidifying her internal decision to craft herself into exactly the girl he wants her to be—to do anything to keep him.
“Your stars,” she clarifies for him willingly, with a sureness that strengthens her otherwise breathless whisper. She has never been bold, this little angel that the dark tried so hard to smother before she had a chance to find her light. But there is something about Illum that makes her feel forward and shameless, a sense of urgency that makes her afraid of letting him slip away if she is not careful. He could have anyone at all but instead he is standing here and kissing her throat, her neck, her shoulder—he is tangling his night sky into her hair and his breath is skimming across her skin.
He is crafting her stars and galaxies and she has absolutely nothing that she can offer him in return—nothing except for a light that he does not want.
She does not want to give him a reason to leave, to think for a single second that she is not enamored by him. She would starve herself of the light she needs if it meant that he would keep her close, and it is why with that same bone-deep need to please she shifts when he asks.
Her angel wings unfurl like an opening flower petal from where he had touched, followed by a ring of rose-gold light that haloes her head. The soft glow of her aura brushes against the darkness he drapes across her, not entirely pushing it away but instead seeming to lure it in closer. A shiver races along her spine where his shadows touch her, and she finds herself stepping into him, pressing her warm lips to his shoulder. She lingers there for a moment, letting her lips caress their way slowly up towards his back, and then the base of his wing. There is an unfamiliar want building inside of her, tightening and coiling and she does not even realize that she is sending the tangled knot of emotions from her chest to his. She did not often use her empathy, thinking that it felt intrusive to be able to read how someone was feeling, and she had never tried to project her own feelings onto someone else. But with Illum’s shadows and mouth laying claim to her body, with her heart beating harder and harder with each passing moment, she begins to lose control without even realizing it.
“I don’t know,” she answers him, breathless and tremulous. She doesn’t have an answer because no one has ever touched her other than him, and until this moment she had never dared to imagine anything further. He had hoped earlier that she was not like her mother in a different way, but this, too, is where the angels diverged.
Este was untouched.
Her heart was fully intact, having never been broken apart by anyone, ever. She had endured hardships, but heartbreak had not been one of them.
She was a blank canvas made entirely for him, and she is not sure that he realizes that.
“But I want you to show me,” she murmurs into his neck, another surge of emotion spreading into him when he calls her love—an explosion of adoration and desire and things she still does not have a name for. “Illum,” she whispers his name with a tension that had not been there before, a plea and granted permission rolled into one.
YOU'VE GOT YOUR DEMONS AND DARLING THEY ALL LOOK LIKE ME
@Illum
this post brought to you by the possible beginnings of covid and also sleep deprivation