Untitled

GOOGLE DOC.

my/your  muse  pleading  for  no  more  blood  shed  from  my/your  muse.

water  trickles  past  the  bruxa’s  ears  ,  not  dulling  the  sense  enough  that  she  can’t  hear  another  approach.   head  pops  up  from  the  stream  ,  soaked  hair  sticking  to  the  sides  of  her  face.   once  she’s  seen  a  familiar  face  ,  estrella  eases  and  is  slow  to  rise  from  the  water.  bare  feet  remain  submerged  ,  the  tattered  ends  of  her  dress  dripping  around  her.    ❝  you  …  come  back?  ❞

❝  i was worried.  ❞ he replies, crossing arms across his chest and, with a bit of humour laced in his tone, as to be gentle, ❝ with your knack for getting into trouble. ❞

As lovely as it is, enough to pull a bunch of dangerous frequency purrs out him — like a rambunctious feline, he starts to get overstimulated the need to bite and nip comes along. His foot digs into the ground and he ever so gently glides his hands along the vampyre’s wrists. Climbing up, up to the hands on his face to hold them in place, flat. “Feelin’ a bit bitey, like a kitty." He laughs, gruff and warm as honey, "Little too much overindulgence for a touch-starved stone like me. — You do have such comforting hands, you know? Give me a minute and you can start again if you so desire it."

“ good; it reminds me something. ” he keeps his hands as still as possible in respect, funnily enough the stretch of his arms rest on the other’s form, a (  healthy ) reminder of how small rathie is despite the hidden giddiness nestled in his chest. the vampyre practically grins, taking a particular shine to those double set fangs, “ that good, huh? ”