[private] Bloodfeather || Lilliana ||

[Wolfbane]

Somehow lovers always began to nurture a language without words. Unspoken thoughts or feelings, belied through winking expressions or half-tilted smiles. They begin hesitantly like the moment he’d wanted to help her cross the river, then they strengthen when reciprocated. Time cultivated the best of those hushed exchanges: the two of them have spent ample time with one another now that Wolfbane interpreted Lilliana’s feelings as a strange, mirror-like reflection of his own. The chill of the night didn’t begin to touch his skin or settle into his thoughts. He met her out in the open, face-to-face, a robust stallion unadorned by wings or long teeth who stoked her blazing inferno with a heated grin.

And he took those flames, dousing Lilliana with sensational fire, touching his sparkling mouth to the proud, smooth line of her head with fervent kisses that spoke volumes about his adoration concerning her. Bane pressed one kiss to her forehead, for leaving her, one above the right eye, for not telling her sooner, and then one above the left, for the joy she brought into his life.

He felt a wholesome, slow burn in place of the all-consuming flame. The ashes left in the wake of his physical touch simmered again, pouring into all of those empty places he felt could never be filled. That blackness inside of him receded for the moment and Wolfbane, not one to question his luck in this particular instance, almost marveled at the bodily weight lifted off his thick, muscular shoulders. Lilli was a guiding light, ironically aglow (and he wonders how he could make her understand, or how he could turn the mirror and let her see how she looked in his eyes) aside from the dark web of shadows cast by the gnarled branches above them.

“Yes, I left.” He agreed, though there really wasn’t anything to disagree about. She was telling him facts, and he was replying with the insinuation that he would have to leave again. “But you were always with me.” Bane explained adamantly, the seriousness of having said it etched painfully into every line on his face and into the backwards tilt of his ears. He caught her explorative mouth with the adept edges of his forelips, grasping gently (passionately) at her. Don’t, he wanted to tell the dark chestnut - hearing his name spoken so formally.

But he wouldn’t stop her, if that’s what she wanted. It would be right to try and keep distance between them. It would be honorable and expected.

And yet, she says more. Bane’s head shifts aside and the gleaming hope in his eyes betrays his innermost thoughts; he waits, baited, and feels moved beyond passion and into purpose at her brief exposure. “This is as real as anything I’ve ever felt.” The stiff-maned horse expressed, husky and breathless as he hovered closer to the crook of her neck. As real as the pain of being ripped apart by his own grandfather, as real as the pain of losing Gale, which was how he knew that this was love… or the tender beginning of it. He felt agony! Like lighting strikes, like awakening from death itself.

Only the torment of love could move him to say what he said to Lilliana.
“I’m not an ideal hero. My flaws are manifold,” He refused to mention Lepis by name just yet, “but if you let me — I will make the wrongs right. If this -” He meant them, the way he ducked his nose and head into the scented curtain of her gossamer, copper mane, “- is what you want. If I’m who you want, I won’t let fear or the Gods themselves come between us.” He promised, the curling heat from his words rising in ferocity with each uttered syllable.

@[lilliana]