07-01-2017, 10:33 AM
Ellyse
I know some things that you don't; I've done things that you won't
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
There is a shadow of discontent within his heavy gaze, and when the piercing cerulean of his eyes bore into her own, her heart thumps uncomfortably within her chest – there is a flicker of uncertainty (something is terribly, terribly wrong, and it is etched into the fine lines around his eyes, and in the hollow of his terse cheek where his teeth clench). His breath is warm across her cheek as he finally exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and again, her pale lips brush across his jawline, tucking aside a wayward lock of his mane, searching the hardened plane of his troubled face.
He murmurs her name, softly – his anxiety quelled by her presence (as her own is quieted by his – though she dare not admit it). She does not speak when Nymphetamine arrives, his browline furrowed with concern, a wordless but attentive presence. The golden flecks of her eyes gleam in the pale sunlight as she traces the hardened muscle beneath the shimmer of his auburn skin (brighter than Warrick – the very same shade of thick, coagulating blood she had seen pooled around the rotting carcasses of her youth – but he is nothing like death, slender yet whole).
The memory of him is faint (she had listened only half-heartedly when Offspring had taken the crown of thorns from the quiet Queen) but it is enough that she is content to avert her gaze, watchful instead of the sudden, powerful presence of the King. A faint nod is given – he is broad, dark, with a fiery glow in the steady intensity of his gaze – but she does not say anything to him.
Hyaline, Warrick utters, and she is quiet – her daughter had gone to Hyaline (was she still there? She could never be certain with her children; each wilder than the next) and instantly, a thick and rolling knot is forming within the pit of her belly, as the nerves along her golden skin tingle anxiously – unnerved.
”Burned?” she asks quietly, with an edge to her voice - burned, and what for? There were distant memories of lands of old being burned; a vicious and unrelenting attack. ”A group,” she echoes, a sharpened bite beginning to seep into her voice, her hazel eyes glancing between Nymphetamine and Offspring. ”Hyaline is still young – it could be another kingdom, testing the strength of its King, or even the Queen of Nerine.”
She pauses, then, ”Only a coward strikes while the innocent sleep. That is telling of the group, of their intentions. You were right not to go, Warrick –“ I would worry for you, she doesn’t say, but there is a softness within her darkening eyes as they meet with his own again. ”not until we know more. We need to build a guard, and set up a watch.”
He murmurs her name, softly – his anxiety quelled by her presence (as her own is quieted by his – though she dare not admit it). She does not speak when Nymphetamine arrives, his browline furrowed with concern, a wordless but attentive presence. The golden flecks of her eyes gleam in the pale sunlight as she traces the hardened muscle beneath the shimmer of his auburn skin (brighter than Warrick – the very same shade of thick, coagulating blood she had seen pooled around the rotting carcasses of her youth – but he is nothing like death, slender yet whole).
The memory of him is faint (she had listened only half-heartedly when Offspring had taken the crown of thorns from the quiet Queen) but it is enough that she is content to avert her gaze, watchful instead of the sudden, powerful presence of the King. A faint nod is given – he is broad, dark, with a fiery glow in the steady intensity of his gaze – but she does not say anything to him.
Hyaline, Warrick utters, and she is quiet – her daughter had gone to Hyaline (was she still there? She could never be certain with her children; each wilder than the next) and instantly, a thick and rolling knot is forming within the pit of her belly, as the nerves along her golden skin tingle anxiously – unnerved.
”Burned?” she asks quietly, with an edge to her voice - burned, and what for? There were distant memories of lands of old being burned; a vicious and unrelenting attack. ”A group,” she echoes, a sharpened bite beginning to seep into her voice, her hazel eyes glancing between Nymphetamine and Offspring. ”Hyaline is still young – it could be another kingdom, testing the strength of its King, or even the Queen of Nerine.”
She pauses, then, ”Only a coward strikes while the innocent sleep. That is telling of the group, of their intentions. You were right not to go, Warrick –“ I would worry for you, she doesn’t say, but there is a softness within her darkening eyes as they meet with his own again. ”not until we know more. We need to build a guard, and set up a watch.”
head of war of tephra
daughter of elysium & speck
daughter of elysium & speck
@[Nymphetamine]