Sochi;

[sochi]

Sochi

darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
maybe you need me or maybe you don't

She blossoms beneath his attention without even realizing it.

She opens up in a way she has never with another, offering him pieces of herself, giving him the deepest parts of her soul and trusting his hands to hold it. She doesn’t think twice about it and perhaps that is the greatest display of affection that she could ever show him. Even when the words do come to mind, even when she does tame her fiercest of edges, it would never mean more than this moment, this trust.

He quiets her, stills her, and she finds a peace here by his side.

She finds something like tranquility with his sun-baked flesh pressed against her.

And, ultimately, her trust is returned when he listens quietly, sharing his own history with her. “How odd that our stories have so many parallels,” she muses, thinking on the fact that they share the same birth place, that they both left to live in the same kingdom. Then again, it makes sense that the two would find themselves with the threads of their lives having crossed before they ever knew the other’s name.

Still, it makes sense, and she feels a strange closeness with him because of it.

“I have never once found you boring,” she says, her voice quiet, the raspiness of it softened into a husk as she traces the arch of his gold band in an oddly tender moment. She stills, vulnerable in a way that she has never been before and then merely rests her head against the muscular arch of his neck.

For a second, she rests, letting the tightening in her belly pass. Letting the rush of warmth flood through her and then recede. Letting the fear of what it means to press so much of yourself into another pass.

playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf

@[Castile]