
Posted by HYPATIA on January 24, 2009, 4:07 pm, in reply to "i'll take you home if you don't leave me at the front door ; thread "
128.192.54.89

for even to think wrongly
is better than not to think at all."
As soon as his name slips from between her lips, she wonders why she called him to her. Because he was her Shadow now, because she wanted to know about Nyota, because she wanted to see him in the dark. He approaches and looks so cold, like flesh that is barely heated. Despite the warm night and her own fire, she shivers as she watches him. The sun has completely faded, but purples and reds still dot the sky.
He slows his grin, but she still feels the muscles of his face move. She looks up at him like a child (she is so short). He speaks and it washes over it, almost paralyzing her. Why? “No,” she stammers out. “I don’t.” Maybe because he’s all vampirific now, he has no brainwaves. He comes close –too close- to her. No one has touched her like that. He smells different than she is used too. She is not use to fondness, to caresses.
She smells sweet. His mind coos, and she realizes he does have brainwaves. Damn. She shivers again.
Solira. He speaks of it like it is her home, like it was the place she was meant to be. This breaks her from her reverie, and her eyes turn hard and hot as they look up at him defiantly. “No. Solira was never my home.” She had lived there for barely more than a year. “I never called it home.” The ocean, the way it jumped on her and attacked her Fire. Even though the Diadem seems to scream with want for Oreallo, for Solira, her Fire represses it. The bad memories, the fact that they forgot her, does not make it any better. “Ni’Srilan has always been my home.”
And no one will ever take it from her.
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