━━ ❥❥❥ @chaosleads : 💋 hhehehhhehhh SEND 💋 FOR SMOOCHIES ━━ accepting !!
A MOMENT OF CELEBRATION — rebuilding in the ashes of all he wrought in destruction over so long. it’s a torrent of feelings she’s felt for him; things she can’t exactly put words to or put in concrete thought or a finger pressed firmly upon. always was she in the thought that people are always capable of change; capable of choosing a different way, a different path. atonement beginning a new road in his journey despite the always present truth that nothing would truly make up for the pain && suffering he tore in flame && anger; a fact she is ever aware of, ever placed at the forefront but appreciative of the change in path, the potential of a new future.
&& there’s a sudden shift; the two of them sitting alone, simply speaking in a solitary, enjoyable moment. ah, perhaps it’s the alcohol previously in her hand ( oh, but she’d always held her liquor so expertly well; limsan raised through && through && lent so well to bets placed with easily swindled idiots in bars ) she tells herself is the culprit for the oddity in the pit of her stomach, the slowing of her heart in her chest && her breath in her throat as he’s so closely bent toward her. even further as her fingers brush across his forearm, choking off the soft laugh lured from conversation that stifles as her heart stops, as mismatched gaze looks up at him. ah, she knows a version of this feeling — the way her eyes drift from his own to his lips, across his features as if studying him, the way the gap between them tightens in space as she leans up.
oh && he does not move away. had he made even the slightest motion, even the tiniest hint of rejection in the natural advancement, she would have cut && run quickly, leaving him in a trail of dust as she fled. but he doesn’t flinch && her brain does not allow thought, simply pushed forward by instinct, by want or need, or whatever it was she felt so strongly for him in that moment; ah, a familiarity, isn’t it ? this feeling. familiar somehow despite it not being in her own memory; something etched deeply on her soul that feels warm.
fingers find their way to him, slowly, softly, placing against his cheek, sliding downward to find her palm’s place against his jawline as it if belonged there; not in fury, not in fight but in a gentleness. && she isn’t sure if she was breathing or not, whether her heart stopped in her chest completely but her lips press to his finally — something hesitant but entirely genuine && vulnerable before him. whether a mistake or not was left for the whims of the future to deal with her reckless spontaneity once again.
