09-24-2018, 12:50 AM
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BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
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Things were still hazy, the heady floating sensation only barely rivaled by the utter burning in his veins, the luminescent glow of her golden eyes blurring together with her aura. He pushed up unsteadily as she jerked back in her surprise, blinking as he absently noted the press of other auras and emotions, but he was too caught up in her — in realizing as the fog shifted slightly that his knee-jerk reaction to waking up to her (again) was not his best per se and that there were tears streaking her face, making faint freckles glisten. His chest burned and his throat burned and everything burned as he reached for her, absently, but he realized his mistake a bit more clearly when she slapped him.
"Ow," he sputtered, reaction time terribly delayed; when he caught her wrist it was far too light, and he was spitting out blood (fortunately not quite from her, but rather because he'd already been bloody) as he held onto her, blinking hazily. It didn't quite hurt as much as he might have anticipated, paling in comparison to the flames licking through his body, burning him to ash as they struggled to heal him — he was more surprised than injured, but then she was pulling against him, trying to move away, and he was catching up to the torrent of words out her move as she shuffled backwards.
"Hey, hey, wait," he protested, feeling a flare of desperation at the prospect of losing her already; the bond went warm and tight between them, as if he was holding fast and pulling on it, and through the heat of the fire he was pulling her back towards him by her wrist, struggling to dismiss the sluggishness clinging to him still. The worry and fear — her worry and fear was an aftertaste on the back of his tongue, swept away by her anger at scaring her, and there was a moment where he held her wrist fast and looked at her, crouched on her knees in front of him splattered in blood with messy tears and messier curls. There was a dizzying instant when he realized that she cared, cared more than he ever would have ever expected or deserved, cared in a manner that he could feel digging into him, vibrating through their bond. He could feel her anger but he could also feel just how deeply that raw terror ran and the source of her anger, could feel it as clearly as the agonizing fire working through his chest still.
His lips parted slightly as he exhaled once, staring at her with something like stunned disbelief as he forgot, for a split second, to breathe. His grip on her wrist loosened, faintly, going slack just before it tightened and he was pulled her towards him, heedless of knocking her into Onision on accident as he dragged her forward, his fingers slipping off her wrist. His hands were in her hair a second later as he ducked his head to kiss her through the tang of copper and the smoke in his lungs, the acute sensation of burning. (Fitting, that it should burn — her radiance was too much, too divine, too intense; the force of a goddess was too much for his mortality, even if he knew the flames were a product of his healing.)
[align=center][table][tr][td]"Ow," he sputtered, reaction time terribly delayed; when he caught her wrist it was far too light, and he was spitting out blood (fortunately not quite from her, but rather because he'd already been bloody) as he held onto her, blinking hazily. It didn't quite hurt as much as he might have anticipated, paling in comparison to the flames licking through his body, burning him to ash as they struggled to heal him — he was more surprised than injured, but then she was pulling against him, trying to move away, and he was catching up to the torrent of words out her move as she shuffled backwards.
"Hey, hey, wait," he protested, feeling a flare of desperation at the prospect of losing her already; the bond went warm and tight between them, as if he was holding fast and pulling on it, and through the heat of the fire he was pulling her back towards him by her wrist, struggling to dismiss the sluggishness clinging to him still. The worry and fear — her worry and fear was an aftertaste on the back of his tongue, swept away by her anger at scaring her, and there was a moment where he held her wrist fast and looked at her, crouched on her knees in front of him splattered in blood with messy tears and messier curls. There was a dizzying instant when he realized that she cared, cared more than he ever would have ever expected or deserved, cared in a manner that he could feel digging into him, vibrating through their bond. He could feel her anger but he could also feel just how deeply that raw terror ran and the source of her anger, could feel it as clearly as the agonizing fire working through his chest still.
His lips parted slightly as he exhaled once, staring at her with something like stunned disbelief as he forgot, for a split second, to breathe. His grip on her wrist loosened, faintly, going slack just before it tightened and he was pulled her towards him, heedless of knocking her into Onision on accident as he dragged her forward, his fingers slipping off her wrist. His hands were in her hair a second later as he ducked his head to kiss her through the tang of copper and the smoke in his lungs, the acute sensation of burning. (Fitting, that it should burn — her radiance was too much, too divine, too intense; the force of a goddess was too much for his mortality, even if he knew the flames were a product of his healing.)
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE [color=#b4d5ee]FLAMES
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Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword, Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door. [b][sup]▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃[/sup][/b]