03-29-2018, 02:32 PM
”To a degree,” his metallic eyes catch a sheet of light and they seemingly ripple with intrigue and amusement. A lopsided, whiskey grin spreads across their lips as he holds her until she breaks away. Where she had been cradled against his neck feels suddenly cold and raw (is this how it feels when he rips someone open, baring their severed muscle and flesh?). A shiver runs through him, his wings shuffling unhappily against his sides.
The tone in her voice has chilled and he can see how her guarded walls rebuild themselves. An inquisitive tilt of his head is the only thing he can do as he listens to an approaching dismissal. There is something between them – a deep yearning – but it’s all new to him and so unfamiliar. He originally came to her to apologize, but it ended in a heated and intimate hold. Castile cannot – will not – deny the kindled flames licking his gut when their eyes meet for a few heartbeats. ”Sabra,” he begins to say, but she is pressing toward him with a feather plucked from her own wing. Lowering his head after noting her intentions, he allows for the placement of her favor. She nestles it into the unruliness of his mane before inching back with a smile softening the ridges of her pretty face. ”Oh, dear maiden,” he jests with a humored undertone as his head lifts again.
Their conversation is pulling at him, his heart uncertainly hammering against his chest.
The emotions reeling through him are a blur. He doesn’t know which to clutch onto.
”Sabra,” he murmurs her name again, tenderly, hopefully, and he steps toward her. Black plumes of smoke coil from his nostrils as he reaches for her, gliding his lips sweetly down her neck, to her shoulder. Another breath of her is drunkenly swallowed before he whispers, ”Visit me in Loess?” Because this isn’t good-bye; it will never be good-bye.
The tone in her voice has chilled and he can see how her guarded walls rebuild themselves. An inquisitive tilt of his head is the only thing he can do as he listens to an approaching dismissal. There is something between them – a deep yearning – but it’s all new to him and so unfamiliar. He originally came to her to apologize, but it ended in a heated and intimate hold. Castile cannot – will not – deny the kindled flames licking his gut when their eyes meet for a few heartbeats. ”Sabra,” he begins to say, but she is pressing toward him with a feather plucked from her own wing. Lowering his head after noting her intentions, he allows for the placement of her favor. She nestles it into the unruliness of his mane before inching back with a smile softening the ridges of her pretty face. ”Oh, dear maiden,” he jests with a humored undertone as his head lifts again.
Their conversation is pulling at him, his heart uncertainly hammering against his chest.
The emotions reeling through him are a blur. He doesn’t know which to clutch onto.
”Sabra,” he murmurs her name again, tenderly, hopefully, and he steps toward her. Black plumes of smoke coil from his nostrils as he reaches for her, gliding his lips sweetly down her neck, to her shoulder. Another breath of her is drunkenly swallowed before he whispers, ”Visit me in Loess?” Because this isn’t good-bye; it will never be good-bye.