Moar of my (weird) totaleclipseshipping drabbles! This one really has no place in any plot really . . . Enjoy ^^
A soft ray of sunlight escaped the window and landed on her face. The glinting ray of light warmed her cheek and she stirred. The first color she glimpsed was that of a teal eye staring straight into her own
"Good morning." She said groggily lifting an arm to smooth out a stray lock of powdery white hair from his face. Pleased with her work, she pulled her arm back and propped herself up on the other, thoughtfully staring into his eye. After a moment of silence he noticed she seemed to have slipped into her thoughts.
"What did you dream about, beloved?" She didn't respond. He tried to pry her from her daydream again.
"Recalling the memory?" She blinked and turned to him, hearing only the last part. Her cheeks suddenly turned a light hue of pink. He noticed, silently wondering who did what in her dreams. "Oh, gatherer of wool, how goes thy reveries?" She shivered as his cold fingertips made contact with her heated flesh.
"N-no not recalling the memory, just wondering where you get the time to be so poetic. And in the morning too." Softly chuckling at her change of the subject, he decided to humor her.
"When you're a being who needs no rest nor slumber, there's little left to be done come nightfall. There are a few activities to be sure, but with my beloved, so pure -" When the poem become suggestive, her cheeks flared.
"Hey, you don't have to be that angsty in the morning, do you?" She dropped herself from her prop and moved in close to snuggle into the cradle of his arms. "Hopefully," she thought to herself, "He can't see how red my cheeks are from here . . ." She sighed happily into the cradle of his arms.
"Oh, god of dreams." She murmured into his embrace.
"God of dreams? You can't possibly mean me. I'm no Morpheus." He snorted, startling her.
"Well you're all I have, so I'll have to make due." She snuggled back into the cool embrace. "Screw what's his name Orpheus-"
"Morpheus. I'm more Orpheus, than Morpheus. Orpheus was a poet who lost his beloved to death. . ." He corrected her. Suddenly he became grave. "I guess Orpheus and I have parallels then. . ." She snorted.
"Parallels my butt, mister poet." She scoffed. "Don't be so morbid, I'm still here you know! And so are you . . . If you were Morpheus," She yawned loudly. "This would only be a dream."
He is still for only a moment as she settles slightly.
"Going back to sleep?"
"Well, yeah." She puffed indignantly into the embrace. She popped her head up quickly to glance at the neon digital clock on the stand. "It's only - holy crap! It's ten till three 'o clock! I can't believe you let me sleep that long!" She turned a fixed glare onto him. Amusement danced in his eye.
"I may have vowed to leave your dreams to yourself, but that does not mean I do not revel in watching the dreamer."
She groaned. That was only slightly creepy. Slightly. "Great, I have a poetic creeper for a lover who doesn't even bother to wake me up on time."
She chose to ignore the chortles, though they reverberated through the embrace.
