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HAZEL ELISE CAELUM ★ THE ASCENDANTS ★ COCOA FELINE ★ GOLD EYES ★ IMMORTAL ★ 3 SOULS ★ 11 MONTHS
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Hazel wasn't going to pretend that there wasn't some satisfaction in hearing his sputtered "ow," though dismay would shortly overcome her smugness. Lost to the reverie that Bastille was alive (she thought...), her anger bubbled only in the form of hurt; wounded that he'd pulled some sort of stunt to land him in this position when he knew she was still aching and fragile.
And underneath it all, the burning terror that he had died right in front of her. She'd nearly lost her last tether to the good in this place. She'd nearly lost it all - everything she'd built, everything that made her life worth living - had nearly vanished under her fingertips. Hazel didn't care that the bond scorched raw between them betrayed her every feeling; she didn't care that they had an audience. What was an audience worth when all that mattered was what transpired between her and another person? (Not that she wouldn't be freaking out about it to Moon and possibly Fey later that day...)
Finally settling on the fact that he was alive and would probably stay that way if she left, Hazel leaned back a fraction of an inch, almost resorting to convincing away not only the anger in her veins but her own body away from the scene before Bastille's fingers locked around her wrist. Immediately, it was too much, never mind that it was Bastille - she'd hardly grown used to little touches, much less him seizing her by the wrist. Her pulse picked up, a small noise escaping her lips and eyes widening in the small window of time that seemed too short to comprehend what was truly going on. Then he was pulling her forward, a desperate light shining through the gloss and haze in his eyes, like he was incapable of letting go. "Wh -"
Hazel had no choice but to brace some of her weight against his palms, though she was faintly struggling against. But it didn't matter anymore; not with his lips brushing hers and the feeling lighting her blood on fire. There was an undoubted surge in her aura and a sudden blinding flash of light, both products of the kiss. He tasted like metal and something else that wasn't necessarily great, but it wasn't awful. She could still smell the smoke and pine scent drifting off his skin; she could feel his fingers in his hair, she could feel how amazing it was. Hazel leaned into it, heedless of their audience still.
[/td][/tr][/table]And underneath it all, the burning terror that he had died right in front of her. She'd nearly lost her last tether to the good in this place. She'd nearly lost it all - everything she'd built, everything that made her life worth living - had nearly vanished under her fingertips. Hazel didn't care that the bond scorched raw between them betrayed her every feeling; she didn't care that they had an audience. What was an audience worth when all that mattered was what transpired between her and another person? (Not that she wouldn't be freaking out about it to Moon and possibly Fey later that day...)
Finally settling on the fact that he was alive and would probably stay that way if she left, Hazel leaned back a fraction of an inch, almost resorting to convincing away not only the anger in her veins but her own body away from the scene before Bastille's fingers locked around her wrist. Immediately, it was too much, never mind that it was Bastille - she'd hardly grown used to little touches, much less him seizing her by the wrist. Her pulse picked up, a small noise escaping her lips and eyes widening in the small window of time that seemed too short to comprehend what was truly going on. Then he was pulling her forward, a desperate light shining through the gloss and haze in his eyes, like he was incapable of letting go. "Wh -"
Hazel had no choice but to brace some of her weight against his palms, though she was faintly struggling against. But it didn't matter anymore; not with his lips brushing hers and the feeling lighting her blood on fire. There was an undoubted surge in her aura and a sudden blinding flash of light, both products of the kiss. He tasted like metal and something else that wasn't necessarily great, but it wasn't awful. She could still smell the smoke and pine scent drifting off his skin; she could feel his fingers in his hair, she could feel how amazing it was. Hazel leaned into it, heedless of their audience still.
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© MIITHERS
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better