@montagvs , [ comb ] comb fingers through my muse’s hair.
too easy, she thinks. the sun had just begun to set beneath the dusk of muted skies, save for the bleed of city lights faintly glimmering through the fog. the city still breathes, its heartbeat loud and strong as it reverberates with a steady pulse — it’s indistinct, almost too subtle, but those who know it, know it well. can never escape its presence. the world had continued without a care for the silence of two prominent figures, tucked away and hidden in a deluded sense of security. no sounds of alarm, no echoes of a life being snatched by the whip of a bullet. too easy. to breathe without an anvil weighing down her lungs is a luxury she isn’t sure she’s allowed, not just yet. maybe not ever. she can feel the metallic edge of the hilted blade against her upper thigh, just discreetly cloaked by the skirt of her dress. and even despite the persistent practice of awareness, the continuous and skillful maneuver of obsidian locks tempts her into a lull, into a deeply coveted indulgence.
lashes flutter as she forces a sharp inhale, hips shifting the slightest against the duvet, “ this is a scheme of yours, isn’t it ? lure me into a sense of calmness. have me lose my inhibitions. ” her voice is quieter, lazier. she means to chastise him but it comes out as anything but. and then she releases the air she’d been holding in her lungs, like a pocket of adrenaline meant to be saved for emergencies — it’s slow, a steady stream of relief. she sinks further into the bed, head in his lap like a child seeking comfort and warmth. the inn’s mattress is not nearly as suiting as her own, but it makes a better option than the hardness of blood - soaked grounds. this was their space of deluded safety. “ the door is locked, right ? ” her hand rests over the side of his abdomen, pad of her finger trailing upwards towards his chest, lining at the crevices of his shirt. “ imagine getting caught this way. ”
