#magictouched

a soft humming reverberates low in her throat as slavic winds touch her,  & it reddens her deeply around her cheekbones like fresh cherry jam.  she’s silent for a heartbeat,  holding the moon in her mouth with her blood pumping.  the gods don’t feel,  a tsaritsa knows.   & so marya morevna stretches her back almost like a cat,  equally as graceful.

❛  he’s a fool regardless of his memory,   devotchka,  men tend to be like that                       pretty but foolish.  ❜

        in his dreams, he’s running.

in his dreams he’s running on four paws over decayed foliage, in the dead of winter. images are the only form of thinking he can manage, but its enough, for now. he see’s her; her red hair tumbling down her back like a waterfall, her chin tilted to the skies and the brightest goddamn smile he’s ever seen on her lips as she chants an unfamiliar incantation. AND THEN HE: he is on two legs, arms circling her waist as he pulls her to him, their laughs harmonizing in a beautiful melody that is so undeniably H U M A N ––––– 

when he wakes with a start, the words to describe the swell in his heart that he felt when he touched her is lost to him, and there is one simple emotion left: L O N G I N G. aside from his eyes, it’s the only human attribute he’s able to hold onto. he thinks of it as an anchor from this life to a past one. his instincts are animalistic, but when he thinks of H E R, they’re easier to manage. he spends his days watching over her, his YELLOW EYES the only things visible in the shadow of the trees.

she was young when it happened. barely tall enough to reach the bird feeder she was pouring seeds into. if he’d given into the wolf that lurked in his heart, he would have heard their low growls before they’d even gotten a chance to take hold of her. but he was only thinking of H E R, her hair hidden beneath the RED cloak she always wore. he was thinking of the way she smelled; like summer and sage, and sometimes peppermint. the herbs she so often used clung to her like a sweater. his jaw clamped down on the ankle of the snarling wolf after his teeth had already pierced her skin. he tore at it until it lay in the snow: bleeding and SUBMISSIVE. he caught the other wolf before he got too far. 

          and then he was HUMAN. 

on two legs, carrying her to the safety of her porch and slamming his fists into the door before disappearing back into the shadows, when he knew she was safe. when he knew she would LIVE. 

he still wasn’t sure how he’d managed it: turning in WINTER, even if it was just long enough to carry her to safety. but since then, he felt an undeniable responsibility over her, and he couldn’t help but think she felt a similar draw. he drug his paws across the snow, a magnetic pull to HIS WITCH drawing him out of the safe arms of the forest. he paused at the edge of the path she always walked, the basket she carried smelling of fresh bread and herbs. he whined, a breathy and quiet sound that the HUMAN part of him hoped she hadn’t heard.

"Well, hello to you too."