L I G H T N I N G // thyellae:
IT’S ALL IN his touch. She’s struck by thunder && the palpitations of the heart return to some normalcy if even for a moment. When he grabs hold of her arms, he snatches hold of her senses. Storm-born woman—her soul erupts in this echoing of thunderous prowess. Powers retained, abilities of the divine dusting her bones && stirring the ache within her flesh. She goes to speak but the words don’t come. They neglect her wishes && hiss back at her will; she’s frozen in this moment, taken by the perpetual intensity of his gaze. Glacial depths, telling of his culture that she’d sought out knowledge of on her own accord so long ago—if only to be closer.
The memories are worth it. The want so strong a thing.
Her skin is scorched no matter the chill in his touch. Set ablaze, some of that life beginning to writhe in agony that she holds it all at bay. Moral compass begs of her to be free of the prison within her mind. Wherefore the locking of gazes is so powerful, so profound, that any other individual could very well be brought to their knees. && it’s in these emotions that their mortality shows—their mortality. All that had once made her human has been restructured && delivered to this divine construct. A cruel reality, in truth. Some would see it as a blessing; she saw it as a curse unshakable.
But she’d try.
For her hands befall his forearms, her grasp tight && solemness evident throughout mien. But the rose begins to stand from its wilting. Resolve finds reason. With time, with time…
“Eric..” His name is released on a breath; words don’t come to her. But the willingness to try is in her eyes.
Suddenly, the world comes to a stop. His face, the muscles that constrict around her suddenly freeze. His name on her lips alone sounds akin to the taste of sunshine. A fool to think that any other woman could compare. It’s mercy that comes in the form of his name, and it’s granter... The coldness fades, the world around them seemingly calms as the rustling winds against the trees even silence themselves for the two.
A moment passes, lingering stare still worried that his effort is useless and though she’s so close, literally within his grasp. A shameless gulp as Eric debates his next move as if everything was on the line. But wasn’t it? This small, small, SMALL window that he’s been graced with. The simple choices to make that effect on a catastrophic level.
“Let me bring you home,” Comes softly, as his tight hold slowly eases. As his hand reaches, no dares, to press the back of cool digits to smooth over her cheek. His fingers falter, showing vulnerability in clear form as they tremble. She’s real. So real and terrifyingly present. A selfish request. One that Eric doesn’t hesitate in offering. But his eyes are wishing on her succumbing to selfish desires, selfish requests.
They rest in the eye of the storm.
Two souls.
Kindred ones.
Bound to always return to one another.
Do they brave hell? Or wait for the tempest to calm?
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