mistletoe for cahir and maxim !! accidental
‘ mistletoe ’ for being underneath mistletoe with your muse. specify whether it’s accidental or on purpose ( ACCEPTING ) // @calonda @adaindhu
The mistletoe plant seems to have been simply allowed to grow there, over the canopy that they both find themselves in. The leaves and red fruit peek between the spaces of light stone that would have protected their heads from the sun was not the morning be a few hours still to come. Maxima considered, for a moment, how someone knew that lovebirds would have been drawn to that spot in specific and how either such an idea had been of pure genius or pure evil. Still, they both stood beneath it now, her eyes having moved from his face to the leaves that seemed to be hanging shyly over their heads. The sorceress shoulders straighten as a small smile, one that grew more on an edge painted itself over red lips.
“Come closer, my dearest knight.” her voice is but a whisper; a promise of greater things to come as the soft, slightly cold breeze of a late winter night seems to wrap them both. Her cup is held from the mouth, fingers held in a claw as the foot of the chalice hangs closely by the fabric of her dress. Green eyes are not on it but on the blue, (now black, like her own) seeking eyes of the Knight in front of her. Both foreigners in a land filled with fairy tales, a land filled with promises that it forgets as the sun rises in the next morning. A hand that easily gives is also one that c an easily take back. But it was still evening and perhaps the only souls awake after the festivities. Even the music seems to die down around them, replaced by the soft gurgling of the river that crossed the Duchess’ gardens and the rustling of the wind against the fabric of he dress.
His eyes look back into hers, expectantly; Had she not known who he was, recognised his name and accent as soon as they had spilled from his mouth, she would have then. The sad and expecting eyes of someone that had been attempting to breathe under the heavy boot of Emhyr. They now looked up to her and there is life brimming behind them, and perhaps she is Spring in his eyes, a way of saying that she brings back life to a place that had been desolated by an uncharacteristically long winter. Perhaps the next time that she returned to the City of Golden Towers; the next time she saw Ceallach and his deep sad eyes, she would be able to bring some relief and remind him that the sun still shines outside of the dark city.
Maxima’s hands fold over her stomach, the palm of soft hands hiding part of the beautiful pattern of green, white and golden tightly lined fabric.Her smile grows as he follows as he is asked, allowing her to reach for his face with the palm of her right hand, fingers grazing the space where his jaw curves down to his chin; his cheeks, the way that even in the darkness only lit by the dim moon over them he seems to blush under her touch. The sorceress does not wait until he finds his place, doesn’t wait until he wonders how much space he can take before it becomes disrespectful. When he stops the first time, Maxima meets him in the distance that is left, her body resting against his dark armour.
Nails dive into the sea of dark curls and anchor themselves there, feeling his breath hitch as it brushes against her face. Perhaps that is the only sea that she doesn’t fear to plunge into without the fear of drowning.
“Me'baeth.” the request is held over his mouth, between a demand and a request. Silence lingers but her lips remain parted, hanging in the anticipation that she had felt spilling from him when they first separated from the group filed with light and colour and song. Moving to closer to a somber silence and warm chuckles that filled with air in a soft and light manner, never fully filling it completely. Something far more familiar to him perhaps, and to her; familiar in a different life, for both. He holds her free hand as he would have if it had been then, if she had been just another lady at court and he was the champion of his nation, but when his lips touch hers she feels the rush and the pull of the ocean in them, holding her and demanding as his free hand finds her waist. For once, Maxima does not fear the pull and let’s herself dive under.
