02-21-2023, 03:45 AM
Lids lulled low, the pelts pulled them both. She curled close. Peering up once in a while at first, but then settled a comfortable weight on his arm. The moment was a treasure unexpected. One he would not release, greedy to hold it tight. But amid the soothing breaths escaping her chest and the heat of their tangled limbs, Tristan was drunk on something else. He’d not really noticed it before. Or maybe he had, but the knowledge only freshly woke. She smelled like spring. Like flowers and mead. Fresh rain on dewy grass. As he lay, stillness settled his bones, but it was to let the rise and fall of his chest heave as great as it could. Just to drink in the scent of her.
Her question tugged, but the fog hovered upon the moors of his mind, clinging selfishly.
“Hm?” he mumbled in response. The fog swirled, disturbed, but no wraiths chased it away. A change of season maybe. A memory of ghosts unformed.
“Who knows what the gods do,” he mumbled a response. Spirits or gods, neither held power over this moment. He would not allow it. Even if he was the one chained, it was his gaping maw that snapped their heels, chasing them away.
Sleep lulled its siren song. Thalia stirred and the fog was banished, though Tristan was unmoved, he lazily opened his eyes just to behold the sight of her. Her hair was wild and mussed. She looked like a fairy buzzing from door to door. It made him smile a little. He reached, touching her cheek, wondering about the loneliness that dampened her dewy scent when the fire puffed away suddenly.
He sat up, pulling her close on instinct. The room trembled an earthquake then fell to utter blackness. His heart quickened, awaiting the crumbling of stone and crashing of furniture, but nothing happened. Then the glow of symbols traced eerie lines on the ceiling and walls. Faint as a heartbeat, but enough that his eyes flared wide and he could barely make out what remained.
He gasped. Something moved in the darkness. The tension coiled and he wrapped his arms around Thalia to protect her from whatever was there.
A flash of eyes and it darted quick as a rabbit. Its foots pawed softly as it lept and landed.
And he smelled the beast.
“Something is there,” he explained with a growl.
He had nothing to protect them. Nothing but his own skin. And he cursed himself for being stupid like that.
He stood, a hulking defenseless figure naked in the dark, urging Thalia to stay behind him.
Then a voice tumbled through his thoughts. The word spoken clear as a human on the phone.
“B r o t h e r?”
“What?” he replied, surprised at the rattle in his voice. Behind him, Thalia was tense as a board as he tried to shelter her fears. And he realized the beast did not smell aggressive. It was curious. Bravery stirred, and he took a step forward, hand reaching tentatively forward into the dark.
Its voice tumbled through his thoughts again:
“B r o t h e r?”
“No,” he replied, certain that Thalia must be hearing only one side of the conversation.
“Tristan,” he added, but honestly because he did not know what else to say to a beast prowling the darkness of an underwater cave that should not exist.
Her question tugged, but the fog hovered upon the moors of his mind, clinging selfishly.
“Hm?” he mumbled in response. The fog swirled, disturbed, but no wraiths chased it away. A change of season maybe. A memory of ghosts unformed.
“Who knows what the gods do,” he mumbled a response. Spirits or gods, neither held power over this moment. He would not allow it. Even if he was the one chained, it was his gaping maw that snapped their heels, chasing them away.
Sleep lulled its siren song. Thalia stirred and the fog was banished, though Tristan was unmoved, he lazily opened his eyes just to behold the sight of her. Her hair was wild and mussed. She looked like a fairy buzzing from door to door. It made him smile a little. He reached, touching her cheek, wondering about the loneliness that dampened her dewy scent when the fire puffed away suddenly.
He sat up, pulling her close on instinct. The room trembled an earthquake then fell to utter blackness. His heart quickened, awaiting the crumbling of stone and crashing of furniture, but nothing happened. Then the glow of symbols traced eerie lines on the ceiling and walls. Faint as a heartbeat, but enough that his eyes flared wide and he could barely make out what remained.
He gasped. Something moved in the darkness. The tension coiled and he wrapped his arms around Thalia to protect her from whatever was there.
A flash of eyes and it darted quick as a rabbit. Its foots pawed softly as it lept and landed.
And he smelled the beast.
“Something is there,” he explained with a growl.
He had nothing to protect them. Nothing but his own skin. And he cursed himself for being stupid like that.
He stood, a hulking defenseless figure naked in the dark, urging Thalia to stay behind him.
Then a voice tumbled through his thoughts. The word spoken clear as a human on the phone.
“B r o t h e r?”
“What?” he replied, surprised at the rattle in his voice. Behind him, Thalia was tense as a board as he tried to shelter her fears. And he realized the beast did not smell aggressive. It was curious. Bravery stirred, and he took a step forward, hand reaching tentatively forward into the dark.
Its voice tumbled through his thoughts again:
“B r o t h e r?”
“No,” he replied, certain that Thalia must be hearing only one side of the conversation.
“Tristan,” he added, but honestly because he did not know what else to say to a beast prowling the darkness of an underwater cave that should not exist.