Ankyra Sound La Lune

He thawed, like an oak softening into a willow. Her skin became hot beneath his touch as if a switch had been flipped, and she felt joy blossom within her chest. She felt no need to sing or speak, not when his embrace spoke so vividly of his acceptance.

If she had known what it was to want someone before, she would refuse the notion now; she pressed against him as if willing for the two of them to become so blended together they might never slip apart. An unspoken vow promised him that she would seek him out again when her time again, to hold her as tightly as this.

For now, she would revel in the moment, and in the promise they both had yet to fulfill.