01-19-2017, 10:14 AM
He had meant to stop her, but the rebuff died in his throat the moment her magic touched him. His body had other plans and opened eagerly to it, welcomed the soothing flow of warmth that made him want to sleep. So peaceful. So quiet. He sighed into it, knowing he was going to regret this, but not strong enough to give a damn just then. Tautness and strain were massaged away, tender bruises were cooled and injuries were cured. Physical relief, ever out of his grasp, in moments became a dear friend to him.
Ashley was not going to like someone healing him; his lesson so easily washed away and replaced with peace and comfort. But he wouldn't tell her tomorrow would be worse for it. Tonight, he would selfishly enjoy the respite.
You shouldn't have done that, he said quietly, his voice surprisingly smooth for a man of such sharp edges and sunken form, gory shards of bone. But it was not for the magician's wrath that brought it from him as he stepped forward. She'd exhausted herself with it, stumbled weakly. The fatigue was in the fog of her russet eyes when she met his, cold heart answering with a pang of concern.
Colors danced in her wave of uncertainty. Her wings ruffled and resettled from black to vibrant green to nearly glowing blue like those strange things on their coast. A hint of amusement hid in the corner of his mouth. Had she any control over her changes? He realized then that it had been her and not the dragon-prince that he'd seen, her chameleon wings. Good. Maybe no one was around to see her then. Better that it wasn't Sabrael after all; he wasn't too inclined to see her throw herself at the handsome man's feet like every other female that lays eyes on him -the prince, meanwhile, entirely oblivious to it. Idiot.
"I had to see you again."
Barely heard, a caressing whisper that only further soothed him. So she was not angry then. That was both confusing, and relieving. He couldn't deny the thrill that sang through his veins, the pleasure and surprise that she might want to see him again. Especially after his blatant theft of tender moments. He never had visitors before. He only had Ashley; mentor, master, and perhaps a shadow of a father-figure in some way.
He knew he should send her away. He never should have told her where to find him, but he suddenly didn't want to see her leave. And she was so weary, besides. And he was so very selfish. The magician would learn of her presence regardless, so he would enjoy it while he had it and damn the consequences.
Come, he commanded flatly, and turned to walk further down the beach a little ways, expecting her to follow. My home is near. He'd been headed there when he spotted her, anyways, and he couldn't very well have her here in the open for anyone to stumble upon. For tonight, at least, she was his.
Home was a deep crevice carved out of a rock formation; the magician's work for his only student. Moss grew all across and ivy hung down loosely over the entrance like bars of a cage. One of the many springs splattered across Ischia trickled a ways before it -how many times had it washed his blood out to sea? And so within the darkness, the ground was not stained and drenched in his blood, but was surprisingly clean and damp.
He paused before it and looked around, trying to see it from new eyes. It certainly wasn't breathtaking, but he supposed it could be worse. It was.. quaint. Solitary. He turned back to her to see what she thought. Home, he declared with a shrug.
Ashley was not going to like someone healing him; his lesson so easily washed away and replaced with peace and comfort. But he wouldn't tell her tomorrow would be worse for it. Tonight, he would selfishly enjoy the respite.
You shouldn't have done that, he said quietly, his voice surprisingly smooth for a man of such sharp edges and sunken form, gory shards of bone. But it was not for the magician's wrath that brought it from him as he stepped forward. She'd exhausted herself with it, stumbled weakly. The fatigue was in the fog of her russet eyes when she met his, cold heart answering with a pang of concern.
Colors danced in her wave of uncertainty. Her wings ruffled and resettled from black to vibrant green to nearly glowing blue like those strange things on their coast. A hint of amusement hid in the corner of his mouth. Had she any control over her changes? He realized then that it had been her and not the dragon-prince that he'd seen, her chameleon wings. Good. Maybe no one was around to see her then. Better that it wasn't Sabrael after all; he wasn't too inclined to see her throw herself at the handsome man's feet like every other female that lays eyes on him -the prince, meanwhile, entirely oblivious to it. Idiot.
"I had to see you again."
Barely heard, a caressing whisper that only further soothed him. So she was not angry then. That was both confusing, and relieving. He couldn't deny the thrill that sang through his veins, the pleasure and surprise that she might want to see him again. Especially after his blatant theft of tender moments. He never had visitors before. He only had Ashley; mentor, master, and perhaps a shadow of a father-figure in some way.
He knew he should send her away. He never should have told her where to find him, but he suddenly didn't want to see her leave. And she was so weary, besides. And he was so very selfish. The magician would learn of her presence regardless, so he would enjoy it while he had it and damn the consequences.
Come, he commanded flatly, and turned to walk further down the beach a little ways, expecting her to follow. My home is near. He'd been headed there when he spotted her, anyways, and he couldn't very well have her here in the open for anyone to stumble upon. For tonight, at least, she was his.
Home was a deep crevice carved out of a rock formation; the magician's work for his only student. Moss grew all across and ivy hung down loosely over the entrance like bars of a cage. One of the many springs splattered across Ischia trickled a ways before it -how many times had it washed his blood out to sea? And so within the darkness, the ground was not stained and drenched in his blood, but was surprisingly clean and damp.
He paused before it and looked around, trying to see it from new eyes. It certainly wasn't breathtaking, but he supposed it could be worse. It was.. quaint. Solitary. He turned back to her to see what she thought. Home, he declared with a shrug.
