She feels it, the quiet tug, the lightning sharpening against her skin, but she holds her ground and lets the rain stretch softly between them like something fragile and intentional. Her antennae quiver toward him anyway, betraying what the rest of her refuses to reveal.
“Where I am from…” she murmurs, her voice drifting with the drizzle, “A swamp, one that hums even when it is still.” Her eyes trace some distant memory, warm nights, drifting fog, fireflies like stolen sparks, before returning to him with a slow sweep. “Thick fog, deep water… lots of things whispering along the banks.”Her mouth curves in a small, private smile. “I was supposed to stay there, probably. But I did not.”
The dark mist from his wings slips across her shoulder again, cool and weightless. She does not lean into it. She does not move at all. But her antennae tilt toward his charge, caught in the brightness of him. “The world got too still around me,” she says softly. “And too loud inside my head. So I walked until I did not recognize the paths anymore.”
Her gaze lifts to his, steady now, unhurried, letting the tension coil in the space between them. She has been close to men before, brushed against their heat, their charm, their fleeting interest. She has known touches that burned out fast and words that sounded sweet only for an evening. None of those moments ever felt like this, like standing on the edge of a storm she cannot quite understand, like the air itself is waiting with her. She breathes in slowly, letting that difference settle in her chest.
“I guess that makes me from nowhere now,” she murmurs, “or everywhere.” she adds.
Her eyes linger over him, the stormlight, the weight in his shoulders, the quiet ache beneath his careful voice, and a want coils low and slow inside her. The warmth of his body beside hers, the taste of rain on his lips, vivid and tempting, but she holds it close, tucked deep where neither of them can reach it yet. She allows her silver gaze to meet his as the meadow hushes around them, rain pattering against the grass like a heartbeat.
“And you?” she murmurs, her voice warm and curious. “Where did you come from, storm-man?” The nickname slips out naturally, almost teasingly.
@Tumult
wrote this on my phone eek sorry if there are typos lol
“Where I am from…” she murmurs, her voice drifting with the drizzle, “A swamp, one that hums even when it is still.” Her eyes trace some distant memory, warm nights, drifting fog, fireflies like stolen sparks, before returning to him with a slow sweep. “Thick fog, deep water… lots of things whispering along the banks.”Her mouth curves in a small, private smile. “I was supposed to stay there, probably. But I did not.”
The dark mist from his wings slips across her shoulder again, cool and weightless. She does not lean into it. She does not move at all. But her antennae tilt toward his charge, caught in the brightness of him. “The world got too still around me,” she says softly. “And too loud inside my head. So I walked until I did not recognize the paths anymore.”
Her gaze lifts to his, steady now, unhurried, letting the tension coil in the space between them. She has been close to men before, brushed against their heat, their charm, their fleeting interest. She has known touches that burned out fast and words that sounded sweet only for an evening. None of those moments ever felt like this, like standing on the edge of a storm she cannot quite understand, like the air itself is waiting with her. She breathes in slowly, letting that difference settle in her chest.
“I guess that makes me from nowhere now,” she murmurs, “or everywhere.” she adds.
Her eyes linger over him, the stormlight, the weight in his shoulders, the quiet ache beneath his careful voice, and a want coils low and slow inside her. The warmth of his body beside hers, the taste of rain on his lips, vivid and tempting, but she holds it close, tucked deep where neither of them can reach it yet. She allows her silver gaze to meet his as the meadow hushes around them, rain pattering against the grass like a heartbeat.
“And you?” she murmurs, her voice warm and curious. “Where did you come from, storm-man?” The nickname slips out naturally, almost teasingly.
@Tumult
wrote this on my phone eek sorry if there are typos lol