#happicstplace

He  stands  before  her,  as  familiar  as  he  has  always  been.  Songbird  would  recognize  him  like  the  breeze,  like  the  song  of  the  stars  itself  !  Yet  she  hesitates  to  acknowledge  the  familiarity.  Has  called  him  here  with  thundering  heart.  Needs  to  know,  needs  to  know  if  this  is  just  another  waking  dream.  Mansion  had  been  empty  when  she  was  there  last  (  as  empty  as  something  haunted  could  be.  Empty  because  he  was  not  there,  not  because  entirely  no  one  was  there.  )  ❝Edward  .  .  .❞  speaks  his  name  cautiously.  Knows  that  the  possibility  is  there  that  this  is  not  him   ⎯⎯   even  when  she  knows  so  firmly  in  her  heart  that  it  is  !  Hand  moves,  and  wrist  still  taped  up  for  protection  is  not  steady  enough  to  prevent  the  tremor  of  uncertainty.  Fingertips  trail  gently  across  his  cheek,  a  touch  outside  the  mansion.  A  touch  in  her  world,  not  in  his  prison.

Honoured  guests  or  yapping  dogs.  He  cares  little  for  both     ⎯⎯     loathes  them,  actually,  if  he's  being  honest  with  himself.  Sidesteps  the  polite  small-talk  with  practised  ease,  finds  himself  much  more  comfortable  in  gruff  silence  when  he  has  to  be  polite.  Still,  can't  help  but  see  the  man  as  an  opportunity  for  a  statement  (  has  not  made  one  in  so  long,  can  feel  the  clutches  of  being  forgotten  reach  for  his  ankles  as  fleeting  memory  drags  him  back  down.  )  Wraps  an  arm  around  strangers'  shoulder  when  he  passes  him  a  drink     ;     seeks  out  gaze  across  the  rim  of  his  own.  ❝I  hear  you  call  my  name  -❞  ignores  the  fact  that  stranger  has  done  no  such  thing  ❝feels  like  home  .  .  .  you  should  tell  me  your  name  to  make  it  even.❞

i could love you with my eyes closed, kiss you with a blindfold, figure you out i might hold you with my hands tied, show you i'm the right guy to figure you out

the moment she kisses him, all of the words flew from his mind. not just what he'd been saying (something about the political relationship between neighboring nations), but all the words. as always, once her attention was on him, there was only aurora. papers flutters to the floor as his hands slipped into her hair. just so he could kiss her, kiss her, and kiss her. ' i was talking too much, wasn't i? ' he asked, having moved only far enough away to speak, his lips still brushing hers with every movement. and then he kissed her again. @bornofthedawn

"I'll be ok," she assured the water spirit as she dismounted and stroked their muzzle, receiving a spectral whinny in reply before the spirit vanished into a puddle with a splash. Elsa turned the doorknob and peeked inside.

"Hello?" She hesitated, and when no reply came, she went inside and looked around. The cabin was clean, and the only evidence that someone had been there was the dying embers of a fire. Her clothes were too damp to dry off with magic so she got to work restoring the fire and once it was enough, she took off the soaked layers of her clothing until she was only in her corset and bloomers. She hung her garments to dry and laid down on the small, single bed to rest for a moment.