04-10-2023, 09:05 PM
In night’s shadows and Nikolai’s embrace, she drifted in the contentment of satiation and safety. For all her melancholy soul, Noémi accepted such fleeting moments with heartfelt and protective cherish. His soft words caressed the edges of sleep as his fingers trailed her hair. Noémi sheltered them somewhere deep, like they might be the only thing to sustain her through a lifetime. Yet it ached bittersweet.
She was aware when he stirred, but did not immediately follow. For all her ability to dream, she accepted reality’s claim when she must. If he left, she had to consider that it was a polite line drawn under discretion. She was an employee, and she had not accepted his invitation without understanding what it meant. Yet in the stir of such strong feeling, neither was she willing to deny her own wants and desires.
The room felt cavernous and empty without him. She pulled the sheet around her, a little uncertain of navigation; her entire apartment might fit in a fraction of his bedroom alone, and she was not confident she really remembered the route here. The soft pad of her footsteps passed through shadows and space. Fortunately she did not find him wandered far. He sat pooled in the light of a desk. A tiny island of solitary.
When she approached her fingers brushed the back of his neck and swept upwards in affection, smoothing the muss of dishevelled hair. It strayed a faint smile to her lips to witness, knowing the likewise tousle of her own. Had she thought the work true and in earnest, she might have left it at that. She was no stranger to restlessness. But a glance at the profile of his expression only strengthened the nurture of her connection. In the spell of night, it was easier to peel back the layers of vulnerability. "La vie est un sommeil, l’amour en est le rêve,” she murmured softly. Her hand reached to still his and claim it, to tug him to his feet. "We may dream a while longer, Nikolai. Do you have a screen, or a tablet, I might borrow? I wish to share something with you.”
[[The French is a quote: “Life is a long sleep and love is its dream.”]]
She was aware when he stirred, but did not immediately follow. For all her ability to dream, she accepted reality’s claim when she must. If he left, she had to consider that it was a polite line drawn under discretion. She was an employee, and she had not accepted his invitation without understanding what it meant. Yet in the stir of such strong feeling, neither was she willing to deny her own wants and desires.
The room felt cavernous and empty without him. She pulled the sheet around her, a little uncertain of navigation; her entire apartment might fit in a fraction of his bedroom alone, and she was not confident she really remembered the route here. The soft pad of her footsteps passed through shadows and space. Fortunately she did not find him wandered far. He sat pooled in the light of a desk. A tiny island of solitary.
When she approached her fingers brushed the back of his neck and swept upwards in affection, smoothing the muss of dishevelled hair. It strayed a faint smile to her lips to witness, knowing the likewise tousle of her own. Had she thought the work true and in earnest, she might have left it at that. She was no stranger to restlessness. But a glance at the profile of his expression only strengthened the nurture of her connection. In the spell of night, it was easier to peel back the layers of vulnerability. "La vie est un sommeil, l’amour en est le rêve,” she murmured softly. Her hand reached to still his and claim it, to tug him to his feet. "We may dream a while longer, Nikolai. Do you have a screen, or a tablet, I might borrow? I wish to share something with you.”
[[The French is a quote: “Life is a long sleep and love is its dream.”]]
![[Image: bannernoemimenthe.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/bannernoemimenthe.jpg)