It is his answer that makes her act on her idea, her daring smirk remaining on her golden mouth as she brings it to graze across the deep violet black of his smooth cheek. Sunlight presses her smile into his near-sparkling skin, slightly surprised that there is any substance to him at all; she had been certain that he would fall away the moment her lips dared to touch him. “I think maybe you’re right,” she replies in devilish agreement, realizing that his honesty brings a single and poignant thought to her forefront: perhaps no one could be trusted, at least not fully.
She has not attempted to put any distance between herself and him. It feels like it had taken so much to get to this point - nearly chest to chest, cloaked in shadow and an intense mixture of starlight and firelight. But as her next question leaves them in a moment of silence, she draws her face away from him so that she may see his reaction more clearly. He is not shocked in any way by the gravity of it and instead seems to give her that knowing smile that she has already come to enjoy.
Then his eyes fall across her and she wonders if he could see her shiver beneath his golden gaze or if the darkness of the shadows and the gentle flicker of flame keeps it hidden.
Is anything hidden from him, truly? Are secrets not really secrets to him, just like they are to her? Isakov must be able to see in the same way that she hears. She decides this is so when he speaks of love and fire - for her, the two are synonymous. His handsome smile darkens as his sharp eyes flash to hers and she wonders why he asks her things when he already knows the answer.
“I do,” she admits without hesitation, “and perhaps one day I will learn to love other things.” Does he find her selfish for doing so? She wonders if he can see beyond the flame, that it is not the heat that draws her in; it is the power within it, the ferocity, the unpredictability. Those are the things she loves, but all she knows is the fire that represents it. “What will you do, now that you know such an intimate thing about me?” In the time she had been speaking, she’s drawn close to him again, pressing her muzzle against the darkness of his jawline and throat.
sunlight
@[isakov]