#fromcravings

A smile curves his lips, heart fluttering as it always does when her hands are upon him - and for the first time in a week or more, the blood sings in his veins. The room is shadowed, dark .. Oberyn can feel the depth of it surrounding them, reminding him of the black cells where they had locked away the imp... and as if searching for a confidence that yet falters, hesitant fingers reach to cover her own, guiding them to the bandages that still cover his eyes. 

“The only thing that makes this loss worth it, is the fact that I killed the man who murdered Elia. That I brought down the lions and their prideful mountain.”  Clever and cunning, ever the snake though injury has backed him to a corner - the prince still grins, palms running up the curve of her arms to tangle in raven black hair. Ellaria. His paramour. 

Don’t leave me alone in this world, she had said.. and he had kept his word, kept his answer. Never. “I am lucky.” Words are laced with the hint of a laugh as the grip in her hair tightens, pulling slightly until the sting of it brings her closer. The perfume of spices fills his senses and the prince leans forward, capturing her lips with the ease of memory. He could draw her like this, he thinks. Even shrouded in darkness her beauty shines like the sun, the siren call of her lips guiding him to an oasis like a man desperate for water. Ellaria has ever been his favorite wine, and eyes or no, the viper is parched. 

Smooth palms run down the sweep of her arms, pulling at the fabric of her dress. Sheer, he guesses. Her favorite. “And what of you, my paramour?” The words are a purr, spoken to the air above him, though he knows she is near, is listening. Even blind, he knows her. Even blind, he can feel her moving to meet him. Their souls sing a matching melody, intertwining themselves together until it is impossible to tell what is her and what is him - and Oberyn lets out a low laugh, fingers tracing the ridge of her nose, following its delicacy in his head. “Does your heart still race?” 

 Leaning against the metal frame that kept her captive, she gingerly toys with the lock that separates her from freedom. She is a huff and a puff away from fainting. She did not agree with the stormy sea that foamed like a rabid dog. She preferred lakes, lakes with lily pads and fish that didn’t try to EAT you– most of the time. After all she was a fairy and carps with their stupid little fish brain could get quite confused– she was shiny, hooks were shiny… there certainly was an insult there that she could store for further use. She just had to FIND it first. But alas she was getting distracted from the task at hand. Her tongue pokes out from between her lips as she focuses all her remaining energy on the lock that doesn’t seem to budge no matter what she does. It’s like it’s not meant to be opened by a fairy. Rude. She hears the door open so she slumps to the bottom of the cage, slowly, dramatically as if a child was losing faith in her.

         “This place REEKS. Oh–– must be the company.”

Their game grows evermore irksome - a tiring battle of wills that the pirate captain is starting to believe he has no hope of winning ... though he will never admit such a thing, especially to the daft winged lass still trapped in his crew’s clutches. Now, blue eyes simply hold her steady, mouth twitching into some semblance of a smile and brow quirking at the dramatics so casually thrown into his face. Tales of fairies spoke of their affinity for over reacting, aye, but none captured prior had prepared the captain for the force which is Lady Bell. “Careful, love - “ The lantern he holds is set upon the table, flickering flames casting shadows that reflect off her wings and reflect in his own eyes. “ - throw anymore weak insults such as that my way and I might start to believe you’re growing rather fond of me.”

A flair for emotion and a desire for escape - perhaps the two of them are not as different as once thought.

Ringed fingers play with the lock of her prison, expression painted in one of feigned shock as he finds it completely intact. “Losing your touch, lass? Shame that. I was looking forward to a challenge... this island seems so devoid of them as of late.” Lithe form slips into the chair nearby, black boots rising to rest on the scarred wooden surface of the table with a sigh as if Captain Hook has all the time in the world to devote to such matters .. which, given the power that was Peter, the pirate supposes that he does. “Four days its been since you’ve come for your little visit, four days that you’ve been subjected to our rather far too abundant generosity - and still there’s been no sign of that lad of yours.”

        Gold sauntered out from the alley way as the Savior stormed off away from the ice cream shop just as the door slams shut loudly behind her. A sicking smirk on his face, he steps inside the shop, noting the distressed look on the woman’s face behind the counter. “Ice cream that bad is it?” He asked, inclining his head in the direction of the door, the bell still rattling from having been slammed shut.