the rocks might melt; the sea may burn. || circinae

[Canaan]

well, the good ol' days may not return,
and the rocks might melt, and the sea may burn.

  The warmth of her breath does not go unnoticed on the hardened line of his jawline, the proximity of her presence almost intoxicating – a long, drawn out sigh emerges from his tired lungs; a breath he had not realized he’d been holding. His deep hazel eyes search her own for a long moment, though she is preoccupied, her pupils tracing each defined line of sinewy muscle and resilient bone on his body. The faint uptick of a smile mere moments ago changed, quirked to one side as it becomes a lopsided smirk, his skull tilting slightly to the left to catch her gaze in his own. ”Do you like what you see?” he teases, humor lacing itself around each spoken syllable. ”My eyes are up here, you know.”

  There is something hidden away within her icy stare; a wild, feral thing, reaching out to him, calling out to him. He cannot bring himself to look away, and it causes his heart to thump roughly against the iron of his rib cage - and though he has no way of knowing, he is as captivated as prey beneath the scrutinizing gaze of a predator. The gentle breeze tangles itself between the wayward locks of hair strewn across the slender length of her neck, the scent of heat, of sweat, of summer rain enveloping him. Her laughter reverberates in the thick covering of nightfall, lingering long after it died from her whiskered lips, though it provokes another low chuckle from him in turn – contagious, and impossible to ignore.

  ”Circinae,” he echoes, amusement lining the flecks of gold as his eyes observe the faintest uptick of a smile across her soft features. ”something tells me there is nothing forgettable about you.”

  Soon, her attention is turned towards the sky, and he cannot keep himself from doing the same. Above, a starlit sky – with gleaming, glowing lights peppered across the wide expanse, the hollow bones of his wings aching to stretch out beneath their splendor. There is very little of him that relishes the feel of the ground sinking beneath his weight, or the sensation of lush greenery lapping softly against his hock. The sky is where he is more at ease, bathing beneath the glowing moonlight, or soaring above where the naked eye can see. A low, wistful grunt rumbles from the depths of his throat, but it is not long before he is drawn to her again, her voice pulling him away from his trance.

  ”Anywhere and nowhere,” he says with a warm, uneven smile. ”wherever the wind takes me. I don’t know, honestly. I wander. What about you? What has you lurking in the night?”

Canaan