Hiding Within {Adan, November 3011}
Aug 25, 2019 17:54:22 GMT -5
Post by ELIRA on Aug 25, 2019 17:54:22 GMT -5
Eyes closed, Elira listened to the water dripping down down the walls and into the rivulets which poured ran through outlets in the walls, flowing into silent, glittering pools. Her dreams had been of water. Water colored with sunrise and dusk, twinkling beneath the purple twilight. Water encircling, and within the water a seed planted. Hiding, growing, stretching, and yearning to blossom.
“Mmm...” she hummed, half awake as her lips brushed against Adanedhel’s shoulder. A pale arm wrapped about his torso from behind as she turned her face into raven hair. The sweet scent of earth and water, and she suddenly realized the warmth beside her. Blue eyes opened, and her fingers fluttered over Adanedhel’s chest, pausing, pressing against the warmth above his heartbeat.
It felt wonderful; a wonderful closeness, though she was more exhausted than recall, and her own heart was beating at the same rate, to the same inner song. And then the tiny tapping, which came from elsewhere. The tapping gnawed at her, though she liked it, it almost tickled, and her hand slid form Adan to touch at her own abdomen a moment. She could not decide if Adanedhel was awake. If his thoughts were trying to probe the edge of her mind, which in the moment was not altogether unwelcome.
Such closeness she had never felt before, and she remembered what had transpired between them, though she did not understand the full extent and meaning, for Elira had grown to be what she was among men, and men held such things in little regard.
She had not fallen into the water; she had only smelled it, and it seemed it should not have left her with such a heaviness, an exhaustion. Though Elira was not so exhausted that she could not send her hand back around the ellon beside when she sensed that he too was awake, caressing his stomach and then tickling him there. “Never have I been more weary,” she teased. “I feel I cannot rise. But do again this… ….” She paused, the knowledge of the word in Sindarin escaping her. Holding her breath a moment, she tugged at Adanedhel’s hip to urge him to turn to her. “What is word?” she giggled, and rubbed at her eyes, then leaned to kiss him before he could answer, humming again in pleasure. Yet her hand fluttered back to her middle, and Elira wrinkled her nose. “I do not... Do not drink poison water?” she wondered out loud. Her stomach felt strange, but perhaps it was only the new sort of... activity... Regardless, she wanted more, and she kissed Adanedhel again.
“Mmm...” she hummed, half awake as her lips brushed against Adanedhel’s shoulder. A pale arm wrapped about his torso from behind as she turned her face into raven hair. The sweet scent of earth and water, and she suddenly realized the warmth beside her. Blue eyes opened, and her fingers fluttered over Adanedhel’s chest, pausing, pressing against the warmth above his heartbeat.
It felt wonderful; a wonderful closeness, though she was more exhausted than recall, and her own heart was beating at the same rate, to the same inner song. And then the tiny tapping, which came from elsewhere. The tapping gnawed at her, though she liked it, it almost tickled, and her hand slid form Adan to touch at her own abdomen a moment. She could not decide if Adanedhel was awake. If his thoughts were trying to probe the edge of her mind, which in the moment was not altogether unwelcome.
Such closeness she had never felt before, and she remembered what had transpired between them, though she did not understand the full extent and meaning, for Elira had grown to be what she was among men, and men held such things in little regard.
She had not fallen into the water; she had only smelled it, and it seemed it should not have left her with such a heaviness, an exhaustion. Though Elira was not so exhausted that she could not send her hand back around the ellon beside when she sensed that he too was awake, caressing his stomach and then tickling him there. “Never have I been more weary,” she teased. “I feel I cannot rise. But do again this… ….” She paused, the knowledge of the word in Sindarin escaping her. Holding her breath a moment, she tugged at Adanedhel’s hip to urge him to turn to her. “What is word?” she giggled, and rubbed at her eyes, then leaned to kiss him before he could answer, humming again in pleasure. Yet her hand fluttered back to her middle, and Elira wrinkled her nose. “I do not... Do not drink poison water?” she wondered out loud. Her stomach felt strange, but perhaps it was only the new sort of... activity... Regardless, she wanted more, and she kissed Adanedhel again.