Emberwood I got years of livin' by and how I choose

✹☾❂

 

His strong, nomadic body easily supported her as Eleuthera surrendered her weight into his. Without much else left to long for, the lilac woman let her eyes slip closed and still herself against him, feeling the breath in his lungs press rhythmically into her side. She felt the dust on his coat intermingle with hers. Eleuthera didn’t know if it was possible, she felt the warmth of his soul reach out to hers and melt away the parts that were tense, stuck, unfulfilled.

She easily trusted that he was feeling similarly.

As Kincaid preened the velveteen décolletage of a very receptive Eleuthera, she knew this wasn’t fair to Kincaid, or to herself. She was not a woman that could support the affections of a worldly man like the one who embraced and kissed her now. Eleuthera was just a little, meaningless thing; a fucked-up soul attempting to undo all the wrong she had done in the world. The corners of her eyes peeled open, and as she watched what she could of Kincaid fully entranced in his act, Eleuthera wondered how she was going to inevitably ruin him, too.

No. No, no, no, no. There had been far too much sadness in the past year to let her subconscious run off with yet another happy memory. Kincaid was here, fulfilling the deep wishes she had yet to voice, and for that, Eleuthera began to think of him as something like an angel, sent from her mothers in heaven so that she might have another chance to smile — even if it was only for a night. 

They rolled toward the earth, a heap and tangle of light grey and ruddy red, and Eleuthera let herself be pulled along for the ride. She was pulled in close and tucked into his chest and, without the pressure of gravity, she lifted her chin and pressed the crown of her head into the muscle of his shoulder; exposing the delicate pulse point of her throat to him and silently bidding him to place his affections there, too. She moved against him, to be closer to him if at all possible, and to pull every sweet taste of honey from this moment that she could. She was far too aware that this mustn’t continue. At least they had the endless now.

“Oh Kincaid,” Eleuthera murmured into him, moving her head to where ever his was so that she might press her cheek into his. Her tail stirred lively in the dirt, seeking out his and mindlessly intertwining. “How funny is it that we’ve met each other…” It had been a while since any real words had been spoken, but this was something she kept remarking upon: how easily she might have been sleeping beneath some tree, entirely alone, instead of wrapped up in this road-weary rambler.

“If one thing had been out of place, we might have passed like birds in the night."