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Dream, Memory, and Blood (Olkhon Island | Baikal Lake, Siberia)
#21
He was tender afterwards. The breadth of his shoulders and fall of his hair veiled the room from view, until there was just shadows and gold and the deep breathing of satisfaction in both their chests. Thalia was unabashed with the simplicity of the intimacy and the way it made her feel. Caresses at the temple lulled a smile to her lips. Still sensitive skin shivered, the sweat cooling. She was in no hurry to untangle herself from either him or the affectionate moment. Beneath the weight of blankets presently pulled over them, and the heat of Tristan beside her, she was content.

“Marked for what?” His touch tickled but she did not try to peer at what he saw; her face was turned to watch his reaction instead, the shadows of loose hair against his cheek, the softened lines of his expression. Even then there were the beginnings of a frightened cadence to her heartbeat, but she let herself drift in the waters of Tristan’s earlier advice. What he accepted she chose not to investigate herself. The impossibility of marrying what she thought he probably saw and the symbol she had seen on the desk was too much to bear. (Sit still now, child. This will only sting a moment, I promise). Her fingers trailed over the peaks and valleys of his knuckles instead, smoothing until she just held his hand close to her chest. Like the pressure would keep everything there from unravelling.

His breathing levelled. Sleep beckoned open arms, and usually Thalia was sweetly lured to such whim, but she only closed her eyes, shifting until her cheek rested against the slow thunder of his heartbeat. She nestled affectionately close.

When his voice eventually rumbled from the cage of his chest she smiled, flushed through with a genuine warmth of happiness. The words made her feel silly and light, perhaps especially because his approval finally made her realise it was not the name he must use for himself in the dream. The offer of the other felt like something else. Not a secret exactly, though she’d never even considered the wolves might use their own names, but like something true. The sharp facets of something precious and whole. The monster, the man, the wolf.

But it was not that which finally convinced her to rouse from the comfort. If she did not feel entirely at ease with the way the room rippled around her, she certainly did not feel the same trepidation of trespass. But it was the second time he had said it, and it moved her from relaxation if he could not share it fully. He followed because she had asked him to, and his unease stirred a care in her, even as it made her remember too why they were both even here. She kissed the side of his ribs before she stirred. The hair was wild about her shoulders as she sat up.

“I don’t really know. I just trust the journey,” she admitted, knowing her various injuries probably spoke little reassurance for the method. She laughed a little. “Usually there’s no one to ask me that.”

She was still thinking how best to offer a better answer when beside them the fire ceased abruptly, a quiet whoosh marking the moment of its death.

A rough mechanical grinding replaced it, and Thalia’s eyes widened. The floor beneath them trembled, like the entire room fell to a momentary slant. In the same instant the lights plunged into almost complete darkness, and silence.
"Rivers are veins of the earth through which the lifeblood returns to the heart."
[Image: thal-banner-scaled.jpg]
 | Sothis Lethe Alethea | Miraseia |
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RE: Dream, Memory, and Blood (Olkhon Island | Baikal Lake, Siberia) - by Thalia - 01-02-2023, 09:54 PM

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