[private] Bloodfeather || Lilliana ||

[lilliana]

This is insanity.

It is the last shred of logic in her mind - it is a thought she keeps coming back too, a tether that won't completely release her. There are a hundred others, thousands even, if she were to keep dwelling on them. He thinks her reserved but Lilliana stands there bewildered, stunned. It seems that this is a habit of his, this ability he has to shift the very axis of her world. She tries, some part of her tries to hold on so hard to that last thought, to remind her that this is dangerous ground on so many levels.

This is insanity, she thinks again.
But she can no longer feel the ground beneath her hooves.
(With him emerging from the shadows, she questions its existence in the first place.)

His expression is mired with confusion, with desire and Lilliana feels her own soul twist in reply - it wrenches in ways she never thought possible. Those blue eyes stare up at him with a reflection of the turmoil that burns between them. She isn't scared to meet that olive gaze - to level it with her own. If she says she is not afraid then she won't show him fear - but she will show him everything else. 

Let him see her own anguish, let him see the fire that rages within her. 
Let him see how she has been burning from the inside out.

She shouldn't feel this towards him. She shouldn't feel any of this. But Lilliana is no longer in a position to keep denying and under the guarded shadows of night, under the trees that shift uncomfortably in an autumn breeze, under a few strangled rays of starlight, Lilliana gives him her honesty. At the very least, he deserves that. He draws closer and she watches him with dark, serious eyes. 

But he comes closer and when he reaches towards her, she lets him. Legado help her - she lets him.

His iridescent mouth traces a line on her face and she finds herself leaning into his touch, letting herself fall into it as easily as she might draw a breath. She feels the warmth of him, of his touch and it comes unbidden, the edges of her lips turn upward as she closes her eyes. This might be insanity but it feels like bliss. Euphoric, a drug she could lose herself in if she isn't careful. The line of fire he draws against her temple is a myriad of emotions that her mind can't even find words for; they come out in the telltale form of a smile that unfolds against the corners of her dark mouth.

His mouth lingers near hers when he speaks and there it is again - that ability he has to send her spiraling, to take the air from her lungs. Her eyes open, try to adjust against the darkness and Lilliana admits against the warmth of him that she can feel hovering so close. "Do you know how you make me feel?" asks a silver voice in the dark, the steadiness in it vanishing with each syllable, a challenge. "You left," she admits quietly, something that she has long been familiar with in life. So many have left and Lilliana has always forgiven their departures, accepted it and kept moving forward. "And I kept wanting just a glance of you," she admits, longing clouding her words. "Just one," she breathes as if that would have been enough. In a moment of bravery, she reaches out hesitantly to brush the corner of her mouth against the outline of his golden jaw.

Of all the things, meeting him, that trip to the Pampas, it had been her worry for him in his absence that had been the most damning thing; she hadn't the right to worry for him and yet she had. She had torn and ripped herself apart on it, that knowledge and that fear for him, almost as much as she does in his presence now.

If she could destroy him then he could tear her apart.

"Wolfbane," she tries, as if the full use of his name might put a barrier back up between them. But it's a futile attempt on her part - Lilliana knows it as soon as his name leaves her mouth. The words drown out in an undercurrent of yearning. 

"I know," Lilliana struggles, words that feel choked and come with feeling the full weight of them as they turn to lead in her chest. They are heavy and she doesn't know what to do with them - they offer no solution. She has none. She has nothing to give him but the truth and what that even offers, she doesn't know. It might be a mistake to speak these things out loud, to give them life against the chill of the autumn air. Then quietly the chestnut mare admits, "That... that scares me too." 

And that's when she realizes her fear - that she was more afraid to be without him than with him.
Insanity.

@[Wolfbane]