02-08-2021, 12:49 AM
Ryatah
— there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree?
Over the course of the last several years she had developed a pattern; an endless cycle of dead-end romances and destruction, the kind of things she could indulge in to fill the gaps of boredom and the hollow expanse inside of her chest. They were meant to be fleeting, and it would not be a lie to say that she had assumed Atrox would be the same. She had always known him to be cool and indifferent, and their earlier meetings had proved to be the same.
She still does not entirely understand how they became so fully intertwined. It happened, seemingly, without either of them knowing until all at once they simply just were. They each had their own past and their own scars; past loves and lives that were entirely separate from what they had begun to build together. It is somehow not easy while simultaneously being as natural as breathing. She cannot remember the last time her heart beat so surely for someone; where not an ounce of doubt could fit into all of her broken cracks because he filled them all. It did not make her faultless; nothing could change the very nature of her, but part of the easiness was never feeling she needed to explain herself to him.
Her broken pieces didn't cut him the way they had with Skellig; they didn't drive an endless divide between them the way they had with Ashhal. He seemed immune to it all, somehow able to pull her closer no matter all the ways her sharp edges further splintered.
He inspires a laugh from her, and while she loves every side of him, she loves the things like this—the parts he only shows to her—the most. “Close enough.”
Instinctively her head tilts at the feel of his lips against her throat, her pulse rising to meet his touch just beneath the porcelain-white of her skin. Something in her tightens and coils when he takes it between his teeth, and she stifles the sound at the back of her tongue. “Every sin with you is my favorite,” she murmurs in response, breathless and quiet from where her mouth rests against his jawline.
She still does not entirely understand how they became so fully intertwined. It happened, seemingly, without either of them knowing until all at once they simply just were. They each had their own past and their own scars; past loves and lives that were entirely separate from what they had begun to build together. It is somehow not easy while simultaneously being as natural as breathing. She cannot remember the last time her heart beat so surely for someone; where not an ounce of doubt could fit into all of her broken cracks because he filled them all. It did not make her faultless; nothing could change the very nature of her, but part of the easiness was never feeling she needed to explain herself to him.
Her broken pieces didn't cut him the way they had with Skellig; they didn't drive an endless divide between them the way they had with Ashhal. He seemed immune to it all, somehow able to pull her closer no matter all the ways her sharp edges further splintered.
He inspires a laugh from her, and while she loves every side of him, she loves the things like this—the parts he only shows to her—the most. “Close enough.”
Instinctively her head tilts at the feel of his lips against her throat, her pulse rising to meet his touch just beneath the porcelain-white of her skin. Something in her tightens and coils when he takes it between his teeth, and she stifles the sound at the back of her tongue. “Every sin with you is my favorite,” she murmurs in response, breathless and quiet from where her mouth rests against his jawline.
there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin —