12-05-2018, 01:59 AM
Her fear has slowly evolved into a sort of morbid curiosity, unable to tear her gaze from the intimidating blue stallion. She is oddly still, ever mindful of each breath she takes, worried that maybe he can hear the way her heart is beating erratically in her chest. When he bridges the gap between them, she does not shy away, though she diverts her eyes to the ground as his breath fans across her skin. The sensation of it sends a shiver down her spine, an oddly satisfying feeling that she tries to ignore. ”Yes,” She says, a quiet response to his first question. But are you afraid of me? she thinks as her eyes hesitantly lift to meet his again from behind her black forelock.
She is certain they are not the same in that regard. Not even close.
Her eyes close as his touch finds her face, biting her lip against the turmoil that is boiling inside of her. Her fear and desire are at war with one another, and not even she is sure which one will win. Briseis has always been driven by instinct, but she has never been in a situation where she was being told two things at once. ”Be less afraid? I can’t just...choose to not be afraid of certain things.” Like being afraid of you, another unspoken thought, an unfinished sentence.
”What do you want from me, Tunnel?” She finally asks, looking up at him through her long lashes. But as she asks the words, she can feel her blood running cold, fear trembling from the nape of her neck and across the ridge of her back. She is afraid — afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of setting him off, of crossing the lines she still doesn’t know exist.
@[Tunnel]
She is certain they are not the same in that regard. Not even close.
Her eyes close as his touch finds her face, biting her lip against the turmoil that is boiling inside of her. Her fear and desire are at war with one another, and not even she is sure which one will win. Briseis has always been driven by instinct, but she has never been in a situation where she was being told two things at once. ”Be less afraid? I can’t just...choose to not be afraid of certain things.” Like being afraid of you, another unspoken thought, an unfinished sentence.
”What do you want from me, Tunnel?” She finally asks, looking up at him through her long lashes. But as she asks the words, she can feel her blood running cold, fear trembling from the nape of her neck and across the ridge of her back. She is afraid — afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of setting him off, of crossing the lines she still doesn’t know exist.
briseis.
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
@[Tunnel]