[ she doesn't fight the pull, even though she knows she should. all too easily, her body leans in, folds against his newly-healed chest and lays there, pliant and unmoving.
it's a little funny; she hadn't been the one near the fire, yet it still feels like she got burned.
back and forth, back and forth. push and pull, push and pull. no and yes, yes and no, and maybe.
she stifles a sigh against his chest, eyes drawn shut, and yet it wasn't the strain of the magic that's suddenly got her very, very tired. ]
no subject
it's a little funny; she hadn't been the one near the fire, yet it still feels like she got burned.
back and forth, back and forth. push and pull, push and pull. no and yes, yes and no, and maybe.
she stifles a sigh against his chest, eyes drawn shut, and yet it wasn't the strain of the magic that's suddenly got her very, very tired. ]
...Good night, Mr. Fruit.
[ will it hurt in the end?
silly boy — it already does. ]