An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“The sky seems massive over her head, crayon blue with towering white clouds, of all shapes and forms. They dance up there, moving and changing, on the horizon she watches as two massive, intricate clouds combine. The breeze carries a lovely scent of the grasslands around them with a hint of some wildflowers in a grove nearby, but it cannot overpower Shaw, whose clothes are drenched in the thick smell of fire; her cloven smell, now smoky and warm.
The sky falls on her back, Root can feel the pervasive light around her, everything is warm gold tinged and radiating energy. The grass under her body is sending wet heat up into the air, making her feel slightly sticky, but good a the same time. She sits back, putting her weight on her arms, feeling them dig into the earth. She takes a handful of grass and lowers herself down, expecting to feel the greenery under her hair, but instead she meets the solid torso of Shaw.
With false confidence, she relaxes, feeling the tense abs behind her head. She almost expects Shaw to push her off, or shrug away, or yell at her, but nothing happens. Root enjoys the sensation of connection. Her head moves up and down with every breath, steady and gently. She hears the rush of air from her lungs, and the strange gurgling sounds that stomachs make when your ear is near them. Root shifts slightly, savouring the scarce affection from Shaw, even as it is just in the simple form of acceptance of physical contact, however accidental.”