[ Finally, after all those months of lying and taking, he takes and gives at once.
In the end, it’s an exhausting sort of pleasure—not entirely foreign, yet under circumstances so wildly different from the last that the experiences are incomparable. Nor should they be. Somnus won’t disrespect his queen or Pyra in that way. But right now, it’s Pyra and her worldly presence that beckon for his attention.
He dozes for the briefest moment when her warmth and movement draw him back to the moment. His eyes slide shut and open again at the chaste kiss, and this time they stay open as he drapes an arm over her back.
Even after she learned that he was king, she continued to use his name. She still uses it, never referring to him with a title. And she says it with such love in her eyes and voice that he becomes acutely aware of the beating of his heart.
Here, in this very moment, it's just them. Perhaps it's sinful to think that way. Even so, he feels a lull in his mind that he hasn't felt in millennia—so long that he's all but forgotten until now. This, he thinks, is what it feels to be at peace. It's a peace so wondrous that he almost dares not to speak lest he shatter it with his voice.
The drowsiness is part of it. However, the absence of tension in his face is owed largely to her presence as he watches her with a look that's neither penetrating nor appraising, but thoughtful and attentive. ]
Pyra.
[ He returns the call at last, saying her name with no haste. It's not her true name, to say nothing of Mythra. But it's a name that belongs to her and tethers her to the mortal realm, and for that reason alone he treats it with reverence. ]
[ Holding his warm presence to her feels as if she is attempting to cling to a cloud. It feels surreal, as if never in years, centuries, millennia, could she have imagined something like this. It feels fleeting, it is fleeting, and she knows the fragility of their presence together cannot last. If she holds him too tightly, he might disperse. If she does not hold him at all, he might escape from between her fingers. Like light made into mist, the transience of this moment can only be held within memories and nothing more. The urgency to remain here spikes, then diminishes with another sigh. She keeps her touch soft but secure, one hand pulling her body against his, the other falling to his shoulder as she rests against him, breathing in deeply, basking in the warmth of the hazy, languid afterglow.
Never has he seemed so relaxed against her. It's as if he's found something he's never had. She hopes he's found something he's never had with her. She hopes she had been the one to give him it, a contentedness that she feels he should have all the right to experience for himself, regardless of duty or whatever the future holds; most importantly, she hopes that he allows himself to experience anything he feels without guilt...
It's the way he says her name with neither urgency nor haste, it is the gentle light in his eyes and betray a careful smile, that informs her that he has found a sliver of peace. This is all she has wanted for him, for him to feel safe and content and-- loved.
He seems tired. Of course he is, and lest she forget, she also wants what he wants, she wants to facilitate his desires. If that means rest, if that means sleep, then that is what she hopes he will have whether here or in his homeworld.
Thus Pyra tucks her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, whispering her last words of affection to him softly as shrine bells during the spring, I love you, then again, I love you, and finally, I love you, as if she might not ever speak them again. Is is like this that they drift into sleep. ]
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In the end, it’s an exhausting sort of pleasure—not entirely foreign, yet under circumstances so wildly different from the last that the experiences are incomparable. Nor should they be. Somnus won’t disrespect his queen or Pyra in that way. But right now, it’s Pyra and her worldly presence that beckon for his attention.
He dozes for the briefest moment when her warmth and movement draw him back to the moment. His eyes slide shut and open again at the chaste kiss, and this time they stay open as he drapes an arm over her back.
Even after she learned that he was king, she continued to use his name. She still uses it, never referring to him with a title. And she says it with such love in her eyes and voice that he becomes acutely aware of the beating of his heart.
Here, in this very moment, it's just them. Perhaps it's sinful to think that way. Even so, he feels a lull in his mind that he hasn't felt in millennia—so long that he's all but forgotten until now. This, he thinks, is what it feels to be at peace. It's a peace so wondrous that he almost dares not to speak lest he shatter it with his voice.
The drowsiness is part of it. However, the absence of tension in his face is owed largely to her presence as he watches her with a look that's neither penetrating nor appraising, but thoughtful and attentive. ]
Pyra.
[ He returns the call at last, saying her name with no haste. It's not her true name, to say nothing of Mythra. But it's a name that belongs to her and tethers her to the mortal realm, and for that reason alone he treats it with reverence. ]
no subject
Never has he seemed so relaxed against her. It's as if he's found something he's never had. She hopes he's found something he's never had with her. She hopes she had been the one to give him it, a contentedness that she feels he should have all the right to experience for himself, regardless of duty or whatever the future holds; most importantly, she hopes that he allows himself to experience anything he feels without guilt...
It's the way he says her name with neither urgency nor haste, it is the gentle light in his eyes and betray a careful smile, that informs her that he has found a sliver of peace. This is all she has wanted for him, for him to feel safe and content and-- loved.
He seems tired. Of course he is, and lest she forget, she also wants what he wants, she wants to facilitate his desires. If that means rest, if that means sleep, then that is what she hopes he will have whether here or in his homeworld.
Thus Pyra tucks her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, whispering her last words of affection to him softly as shrine bells during the spring, I love you, then again, I love you, and finally, I love you, as if she might not ever speak them again. Is is like this that they drift into sleep. ]